


Deserved

by failsfordails



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bullying, Coming Out, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Past Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 76,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsfordails/pseuds/failsfordails
Summary: After the chaos of war, Hogwarts has decided to give its students a chance to make up their entire lost year. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and hundreds of others are returning to the castle with more than a few scars and nightmares. But among the returning students is Draco Malfoy, much to everyone's surprise. Everyone but Harry.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 72
Kudos: 489





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the first fic that I ever turned into a complete story, as well as the first fic I ever posted two years ago on another site, so Deserved sits very close to my heart. I've always had folders and folders of half-baked ideas and cobbled-together scenes that never quite lined up right, but something about this idea sparked that writer's craze and I wrote the whole thing over the course of a week. I haven't looked at it since I posted it, and because I'm lazy, I'm just copying and pasting it instead of continuing to proof-read. So any mistakes are well over two years old and I am sorry you have to look at them :| Try to enjoy otherwise :)

Fred's old school trunk was much like Harry's own trunk had been. Dark, hard material, locks that were tattered after years of use, though several brightly colored sweets littered the bottom, much unlike Harry's had. Not sure if the sweets were innocent or unfinished prototypes of the joke shop, Harry reached into the depths of each corner, removing the bright candies and placing them atop the dusty nightstand.

Percy's room had been largely untouched in the time since he had left the Burrow before the war, and in the weeks that Harry had occupied it, little had been done to change that. After his first night of sleeping in Percy's old room, bedding fresh due to Mrs. Weasley's insistence, Harry had thought that he ought to clean it up a little. It had been a nice thought, but it had remained simply that. The dust stayed, barely disturbed even after nearly eight weeks of inhabitance.

And now, as he threw the last of his clean socks into Fred's old trunk, Harry was about to leave the room empty again. The following day was September 1, and Harry Potter was returning to Hogwarts.

Anxiety clawed at his chest. After Voldemort's death, there was a solid week's worth of work that had been done to repair Hogwarts as well as find, identify, and bury the dead. It had nearly been fifty-fifty on deaths of those in the rebellion and Death Eaters, a number that gave many families comfort, knowing that their loved ones died likely taking at least one Death Eater with them. But for Harry, it was devastating. So many lives were needlessly lost to Voldemort's ruthless battle against death, unity, and understanding.

Ever since the idea had been brought up nearing a month previous, returning to Hogwarts to complete his education had caused Harry a horrible array of emotions. He, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had been offered jobs at the Ministry, no N.E.W.T.s required. Ron had been immediately taken with the idea, but Hermione's persistent concerns over their education and career choices had eventually led Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, and several other prominent witches and wizards to discuss the idea of a "re-do" for the previous year. It hadn't just been Harry, Ron, and Hermione that had missed an entire year - aside from the previous year's muggleborns not being permitted into the castle, nearly every student at Hogwarts under the Carrow's regime had missed out on a genuine education.

Harry dropped down onto the foot of the bed, head dropping into his hands. He, too, had been tempted by the Ministry's offer. To be given job security so young was a gift. But Harry fought with more than simply a choice between entering the workforce or returning to school.

Once Hogwarts had been repaired and the dead laid to rest, Harry had a few days spent entirely in Percy's old room with absolutely nobody bothering him. He couldn't say it had been enjoyable, but it was a gulp of fresh air to have escaped the limelight for even a few days. Harry had endured being famous for seven years under multiple themes, but now he was an all-out hero. He was expected everywhere, to speak to everyone, to be available at any given opportunity. If Harry had his way, his entirely selfish way, he would disappear from the public view for the rest of his life, holed up in some distant country where no one would know his name.

But he couldn't do that. Harry rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. In some sick way, he knew he owed it to the wizarding world that he had just saved to stay. To vanish now would be ungrateful to those who had stayed by his side all these years, supported him through thick and thin, loved him when he hadn't loved himself.

His hands slid up his forehead and tangled into his hair. No, no matter how much Harry wanted to disappear forever, he could never do it. Besides, as Hermione had gently mentioned, one more year at Hogwarts would guarantee his privacy from the general public, at least. Working for the Ministry, however, he would become public property again under the ever watchful eye of his fans.

"Think of it as a bit of a vacation," Hermione had said, much to Ron's incredulity.

After the past seven years, a normal school term with normal adolescent issues did sound an awful lot like a vacation.

There was a knock on the door then, and Harry lifted his head just as Ron stepped inside.

"Dinner's nearly ready," he said. "Mum says you ought to wash up."

Harry nodded. "How...how is she?"

Ron grimaced. After Ron and Harry had decided to return to Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley had been rather teary-eyed. With Bill and Fleur living away, Percy returning to his London flat (he had insisted that he couldn't break the lease just then, but he visited nearly every weekend), George back to living atop his shop in Diagon Alley, and Charlie due to return to Romania shortly after the Hogwarts Express left, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were facing a truly empty house for the first time since the war once Harry, Ron, and Ginny left. Seeing Mrs. Weasley wipe at her eyes every time he retrieved an item for his trunk from around the house had Harry reconsidering returning to Hogwarts on more than one occasion.

"Mostly the same," Ron said, breaking Harry's musings. "I reckon it'll be pretty rough tomorrow, saying good-bye, but once she calms down after we leave, she'll be fine. She's good like that."

"Right."

"Right." Ron nodded awkwardly. "Well, best do as she says and wash up. She won't have you ducking out on our last dinner together."

"I haven't been-"

"I know, Harry." He gave Harry a small smile, reaching to pat him on the shoulder. "We all know."

Harry sighed, wishing he hadn't been so quick to anger. But Ron simply gave his shoulder another pat and left, leaving the door open as a reminder to follow. Harry rubbed his eyes once more, then stood and made his way downstairs.

The kitchen was alive with the smells and sounds of dinner, all of Harry's, Ron's, Ginny's, and Charlie's favorites as though Mrs. Weasley was determined to make each of them the guest of honor. It brought a lump deep in his throat watching Mrs. Weasley sweep about the room, setting dishes on the large table and running a shaking hand through her wild hair. Mr. Weasley and Charlie were already sitting, their amused but strained expressions making it clear that Mrs. Weasley wanted no help. Ron was only a few steps ahead of Harry, making his way to a chair.

"Oh, Harry, Ron, come now, sit, sit!" Mrs. Weasley said in a falsely bright voice. "I suspect Ginny will be here soon, then we can tuck in!"

Harry sat down across from Ron. "It looks delicious, Mrs. Weasley."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, Harry, dear, you're too kind." She set the last dish down and glanced toward the staircase. "I've made everyone's favorite, so feel free to eat as much as you'd life! Nothing left, you hear me?"

The men all nodded, smiling indulgently as Ginny stepped into the room.

"Come on, Ginny, sit down," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. "I've just finished setting the table."

"It smells amazing, Mum."

"Oh, my dear." Mrs. Weasley gave Ginny's cheek a swift peck before sitting down beside Ron.

Ginny looked around a moment, eyes falling on the only empty place setting - right next to Harry. She made her way over, looking at the floor, and sat down, inching her chair ever so slightly closer to him.

"Well, let's eat, shall we?" Mr. Weasley said. "Everything looks delicious, Molly, and I have no doubt that it tastes just as superb."

As Mrs. Weasley wiped her eyes, everyone else began to load their plates.

"So," Mrs. Weasley started after a few minutes. "Tomorrow's the big day. Everyone excited?"

"Returning to Hogwarts?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I'd've rather taken the Ministry job. But Hermione made some good points about going back, I suppose."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, it'll be good to have a full education. I'm glad somebody could talk some sense into you."

Ron shoved an enormous piece of chicken into his mouth, cutting off any plans of replying. Which, Harry suspected, was the point.

"How's the Ministry handling everything these days, anyway, Dad?" Charlie asked.

Mr. Weasley shrugged. "I suppose we're all just doing the best we can. It's hard, to say the least. Weeding out the bad seeds from before the war has been the top priority, along with making sure that the new features of Azkaban are in order. To be honest, it's hard to admit how much we leaned on the dementors to handle the day ins and day outs of the prisoners."

"How...how as Azkaban changed?" Ginny asked, her elbow just barely bumping into Harry's.

"Well, obviously we had to make sure that the building was fixed up, seeing a how the inmate will have their faculties about them without the dementors around." Mr. Weasley shuttered slightly. "Too, the Auror Department had to do an entire training and shift more than half their staff to maintain the place. I think a long-term solution is in the works now for an entirely new sub-department, but that's easily a year or more away from being absolute. They're worried for the safety of the prisoners in the meantime, though."

Ron choked. "They're worried about the safety of _Death_ _Eaters_?"

Mr. Weasley shot his son a stern look. "Not everyone in Azkaban is a Death Eater, nor is everyone there meant to stay for life. But it's the Death Eaters that are the cause for the violence. There've been two murders that I know of, and I'm nowhere near the department. I dare say the Aurors are up to their ears in policy adaptations and paperwork."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "Maybe this isn't the right time or place to-"

"Who was murdered?" Harry asked. His voice was quiet and slightly hoarse from lack of use, but Mr. Weasley heard him.

"A witch committed two years ago for a manslaughter charge, and Lucius Malfoy."

The table fell silent.

Lucius Malfoy. Dead.

"Well, good riddance, I say," Ron murmured.

"Ron, how dare you!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "That is hardly the things to say when someone's been murdered."

"You don't think that that's what he'd've said if I'd been killed?"

"I don't care what Lucius Malfoy would have said, it doesn't make your cold attitude justified!"

"Besides, Ron," Mr. Weasley said, shooting a look at Mrs. Weasley. "The Malfoys, while undeniably foul in the past, were one of the few families that were tried and found to be trying to break away from Voldemort. It doesn't make anything they did right, but it does make a difference."

Silence fell as Ron stabbed at his mashed potatoes and Mrs. Weasley took a few deep, steadying breaths. It was Charlie who spoke first.

"If the Malfoys had been found to be...well, not innocent, but...if the Wizengamot had found them to be trying to escape Voldemort...why was Lucius in Azkaban?"

"Well, his wife and son were acquitted entirely," Mr. Weasley said, glancing briefly at Harry. "But Lucius was sentenced to...I think it was around five years in Azkaban for his crimes, as well as having to pay an enormous fine for personally housing Voldemort, his followers, and his...Dark activities." Mr. Weasley sighed, reaching to pull a piece of chocolate cake onto his plate. "But, regardless, Lucius was ambushed by some Death Eaters that apparently found it important to...well."

Harry set down his fork. He hadn't eaten much, but he couldn't even pretend to continue now. Lucius Malfoy dead. Maybe once, in his angrier of times, Harry might have relished in the idea, but the reality of it was horrible. Lucius' wife, Narcissa, had saved Harry's life when it had mattered most, and though Harry had a seven year bitter rivalry with their son, Draco, he knew deep down that he would never have wanted this for him. Now the Malfoys, once a proud wizarding family, were a shattered shell, with only a mother and son to fend for themselves. Yet another family destroyed by Voldemort, even after his death. Harry closed his eyes.

A warm hand touched his under the table. Harry reacted as though electrocuted, yanking his arm back so hard he nearly toppled into Charlie in his haste to pull from...

Ginny. Her brown eyes were wide as she pulled her hand back into her own lap. Charlie nudged Harry, playing off the silent commotion as brotherly shoving, much to Harry's relief. Mrs. Weasley eyed him for a moment, but turned her attention to Ron, who had begun shoveling in his pudding with enough enthusiasm to warrant a reprimand.

Charlie raised his brows at Harry, who only shrugged sheepishly in return, not knowing what to say. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes back to Ginny, but she had taken to glaring at her plate, hands firmly in her lap.

Guilt burned his insides, snaking through his veins like an untamed fire. After he had been made to return to the world of the living from his days-stay in Percy's bedroom, Harry had immediately sought out Ginny. He had held it in his heart throughout the past year that those brown eyes, those freckles, those soft hands, those flowing red locks, that laugh, and that smile were all he wanted once the torment of war was over. But the moment he saw her, sitting in the living area reading a book, Harry knew. He knew at immediately that he could never love Ginny the way he once thought he could. But he had pressed on, making his way to her and speaking quietly, wanting to push that feeling away.

Nothing had deterred it.

Days crept by where simply seeing Ginny had hurt him. Talking to her was a challenge Harry hadn't yet overcome. Something enormous had shifted between them. So much had changed. They had each lost so much, and Harry had his own inner demons that only multiplied in their year apart. Less than a week had passed when Harry knew that he no longer loved Ginny the way she loved him.

But, for all his supposed Gryffindor bravery, Harry had yet to tell her. Instead, Harry had taken to avoiding her at all costs, hastily crafting excuses to leave whenever he did happen to befall her company. Hurt swam in her eyes each time. It tore at Harry when he was alone, yet he continued to do nothing.

Harry placed his hands in his own lap and bowed his head, suddenly very tired. So much had changed. How had he ever convinced himself that he could return to what his life was before the war? How had he ever convinced himself that he could have a normal life?

* * *

The Malfoy Manor was cold. It always had been, in that emotional sense that books spoke of, but as Draco locked his old school trunk, now fully packed, he could physically feel the chill pass through his bedroom. He straightened, rubbing circles into his sore back. He had been packing his trunk on and off for weeks, stopping for days at a time as he swayed between how bad of an idea he thought it was at the time. Draco collapsed onto his bed with a groan.

He was such a coward.

As Draco laid here, self-loathing overcoming his entire being, the cold on his skin dipped into his heart. There were endless reasons to hate Draco Malfoy, as he was all too aware. For things as simple as being a spoiled brat with outdated prejudices and childish pettiness, for things are harsh as outright attacking students in the corridors of Hogwarts, for things as criminal as practicing the Cruciatus Curse on mere children. The memories had stolen his sleep for nearing on two years now, but after the owl his mother had received the previous week, Draco couldn't find more than twenty minutes of unconsciousness at a time.

Because, for all he wished to, Draco couldn't bring himself to grieve for his father.

His mother hadn't offered details, and Draco hadn't asked. But savagely, he knew his father deserved every second of whatever it was.

Draco's mother had tried for weeks to convince him that his father had done everything he had to try and protect them. Perhaps he had, but Draco knew that if his father hadn't been so weak, so prideful, so pathetic as to have ever been in the Dark Lord's service, the past seventeen years could have been so different. Even if Draco had still been raised to be the snarky little arsehole that he was, the Malfoy name wouldn't have been drug through the mud that now clung to Draco's every molecule. Had his father actually changed his ways after the Dark Lord's disappearance all those years ago instead of just pretending, maybe Draco wouldn't have been thrust into the positions he had been. Maybe he would have grown to be less of the evil prat that deserved every ounce of loathing that he knew was coming his way the second he stepped onto the train the next morning.

Or maybe not.

Furious tears stung his eyes as he laid there, wondering if any of it would have made a difference. What it all boiled down to was how enormous of a coward Draco really was.

The large clock in the lounge chimed, echoing faintly throughout the manor. Draco glanced at his own clock, hardly surprised that it was nearing one in the morning.

Not that time really mattered anymore. Ever since he and his mother had been acquitted by the Ministry for their parts in the war, Draco had taken to simply existing inside the manor, barely eating, scarcely sleeping, and never once stepping outside. It was a lonely and aching existence, but at least no one was hurt by inactions this time.

But, being so late, Draco knew his mother was likely asleep. He stood from the bed and made his way to the kitchen. A cup of tea might calm him enough to catch a few minutes of sleep.

As Draco entered the kitchen and busied himself with making a strong cup of lavender and chamomile tea, he kept an ear out for his mother. He had never once hated his mother for anything that happened. She was an undeniably strong woman that had willingly disobeyed the Dark Lord twice, going behind his back and lying to his face without batting an eye. No Death Eater could say the same, could have gotten away with such feats. And Draco's mother had done both in the name of keeping her only son as safe as she could.

No, Draco had never hated his mother for the events of the past. She had always been far stronger and braver than his father could have ever hoped to be. More than once, even before all the Darkness had penetrated their home, Draco had wondered what on earth she ever saw in his father. Regardless of how his father had treated him, causing more than one argument Draco overheard, she had stayed and remained unwaveringly loyal to Lucius Malfoy.

Despite his untouched love for his mother, Draco still couldn't bring himself to face her for more than a few minutes at a time since they returned home and especially since his father's murder. Draco couldn't fake the sorrow that so gripped his mother, even for her. She didn't deserve to grieve alone, yet Draco couldn't provide that company for her. Even after all she had done for him. It tore at him every time he escaped her.

Draco poured his tea into his cup and held it in both hands, savoring the warmth it brought his frozen fingers. He took a sip. Now that the war was over and Draco no longer was living in personified panic, he had hoped sleep could come easier. But it seemed that the opposite had occurred - now that the world had fallen into a certain amount of calm, Draco was sleeping less than ever. Waking nightmares kept him tossing and turning into the night, and even when he did manage to fall asleep, the horrific memories only jolted him back awake.

"Ahem."

As though hit with lightning, Draco started violently, spilling some of his tea down his front as he whipped around. In the kitchen's doorway stood his mother.

She looked pale, and her eyes were rimmed in red. "I know you've been avoiding me, Draco."

Guilt shot through Draco's heart like an arrow. "No, Mother, I-"

"And I can hardly blame you," she said, speaking as though she didn't hear his half-hearted denial. "I know you don't mourn your father. He was terrible to you, even before the Dark Lord rose again." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I only wish I had been more aggressive in protecting you from him. No child deserves what Lucius put you through."

The quiet that filled the kitchen was palpable. Draco stood there, wet front growing cold, not knowing in the slightest what to say. There were no words he could find quickly to comfort his mother as she made a final attempt to reach out to him. Nothing she said was wrong. Nothing she said was something he could dispute. Yet Draco longed for her to know that he could never blame her.

But she didn't give him the chance.

"Have you finished packing for school?"

"Uh..." The abrupt subject change took him aback. "Yes, I just finished tonight."

"That's good, that's good."

Draco hesitated. "I'm not sure how good of an idea it is to go back."

His mother nodded. "I know. But this is too good an opportunity for you, Draco." She smiled sadly. "A fresh start, a way to complete your education properly so that you have all the tools you'll need to make your way through this new world."

Draco looked down at his tea, unsure of what to say.

"With this year, you can rebuild yourself. Make yourself a strong, better man than your father ever was." His mother's voice wavered, and Draco forced himself to look back up at her. Tears swam in her eyes.

"Well...I..." Draco drowned the rest of his tea, now lukewarm, in one gulp and set it noisily on the counter. "I ought to try and sleep. You know...big day..."

"Of course." His mother's small smile fell as Draco moved past her and into the lounge. As he rounded the corner toward the stairs, he barely heard her say, "I love you."

What she thought there was left to love, Draco hadn't a clue.


	2. Chapter 2

After the overwhelmingly emotional and draining mess that was the chaos of the day, Harry was immensely glad to be confined to the tiny space of the threstal carriage with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna.

The rush from the Burrow to King's Cross had been noticeably less stressful than in previous years, leaving them all at least twenty minutes to say good-bye before the train was set to leave. Mrs. Weasley had finally released the tears that had threatened to fall for weeks, sobbing openly into each of their chests in turn as she said her farewells to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Mr. Weasley had firmly shaken Harry's and Ron's hands, as had Charlie, and embraced his daughter tightly. It had been emotional, and Ron had fretfully tried to ease his mother's tears by reminding her that all the danger had passed, that they would all be back for Christmas before she knew it. It had seemed to help as they boarded, but Harry saw Mrs. Weasley dissolve into tears again from the train window.

The Hogwarts Express had been a downright nightmare. An all-day, high-energy, inescapable nightmare. At first, Harry and Ron had been able to find a compartment with Hermione without incident. Neville, Dean, and Seamus had joined them shortly after the train left the station, which was a pleasant surprise. But past that...Harry shuddered, causing Hermione to raise her eyebrows at him from across the carriage.

It wasn't as though being a famous war hero was a nightmare in and of itself. No, it was the sheer amount of attention that Harry now drew that was entirely too much. He hadn't much enjoyed being the mysterious enigma that was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, before the war. But now that he had outright defeated Voldemort...Harry was beyond idolization, it seemed.

It started with a few of his old friends from the DA finding him - Luna, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cho Change, Michael Corner. Then it became people he only knew by sight, followed by downright strangers pleading for his autograph. Before long, people lingered in their compartment, begging for details of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's year away from Hogwarts, how Harry had killed Voldemort, how Harry himself hadn't died when he went into the Forbidden Forest that night.

Thankfully, Ron and Hermione had been prepared, it seemed, and they had booted each of these particular fans from the compartment without tact. Harry hadn't been able to properly articulate his gratitude, but he felt confident that they knew. When the train stopped and the trio had found a carriage, it had been an intoxicating relief to be among true friends.

When it came time to unload, Hermione led the way, taking Ron's hand and nodding to Harry to follow. Had he not been grateful for the support, Harry may have been annoyed at being silently ordered around. But when Luna took his arm in hers a moment later and began to skip up the stairs, all negative feelings melted away. If Luna Lovegood could be smiling after spending months on end locked in a dark cellar, Harry had little room to brood.

The Great Hall was nearly exactly as he remembered it, though through the ceiling's enchantments, he could make out deep cracks in the stone that hadn't been entirely mended. Other than the sheer mass of students being larger than previous years, Harry felt almost as though he had taken a huge step back in time.

But as he entered the hall and Luna left him for the Ravenclaw table, Harry felt his chest constricting. All eyes had swiveled to him, adoring and awestruck, and several shouts of love and support washed over him like a bucket of frigid water. Harry struggled to breathe as he let Hermione grab his wrist and steer him over to the Gryffindor table, shoving him into a seat and dropping into the one next to him. Neville fell into the chair on his other side and offered an encouraging smile.

The Hall was slowly settling as the students found their seats, and Harry couldn't help but think of how young they all seemed. His eyes scanned the room, sadly wondering how many were missing this year because of the war, when he found the Slytherin table, thinner compared to the other House tables. It was common knowledge that many of the older Slytherin students were not permitted to return to Hogwarts because of their crimes, but seeing the difference between Slytherin and the rest of the school jarred Harry.

Harry had been the head of that committee.

It had been Kingsley Shacklebolt, newly Minister of Magic, that suggested the idea, and Harry had agreed despite his deep wish to vanish from everything at the time. It had only been hours after Fred's funeral that Harry had been approached with the idea. The Ministry had struggled with how to handle the Hogwarts students that had committed crimes while under the Carrow's regime. Did their mere age acquit them? Or should they pay just as much as though they were adults?

And so, the committee had been born.

Harry, along with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna, Ginny, and another 10-15 students of varying age and House had been brought together to go over certain students' criminal files. Not all those students accused of crimes had been given to the committee. Most had willingly and openly confessed, stubbornly defending their actions and more or less proclaiming devotion to Voldemort's ways. Those students had been charged and sentenced to a mandatory three years in Azkaban's newest juvenile facility. Some of those students had been as young as 14.

Harry's committee had been given only around twenty cases of students that claimed to have acted only out of fear for their own lives or the lives of their families, and it had been up to the committee to decide if they believed them or not.

The Great Hall's doors burst open, revealing an achingly familiar, oversized man with wild hair and beady black eyes crinkled into a smile. Hagrid waved at the erupting applause and led an enormous group of first years to the front of the Hall, breaking away from them to take his place at the staff table.

The number of students being Sorted was literally twice as many as usual. Though Sorted, the previous year's number of first years had been drastically diminished, as Voldemort hadn't allowed muggleborns to be permitted, nor were many half-bloods. Due to this, all of the previous year's first years were repeating the Sorting alongside those that hadn't been permitted to attend with them and the current year's actual 11-year-olds.

Harry's eyes strayed from McGonagall as she began reading from the list, calling up each child by name to be Sorted. He looked back to the Slytherin table, and this time they fell upon a sleek mop of white-blond hair.

Malfoy was as pale and pointed as ever, but even from across the Hall, Harry could see how frighteningly thin he was. He stared blankly at the table in front of him, lips pursed as though about to be sick. His left eye looked slightly swollen and purple, as though in the beginnings of a bruise.

When the committee had been formed, Harry alone had been given the list of students they would be discussing, and he had immediately seen Malfoy's name. Without a second thought, Harry had appealed to Kingsley directly that Malfoy, as well as his mother, be acquitted. When asked what evidence or reasoning he had for their innocence, Harry had used the weight of his own name for the first time to ask that they simply be cleared without a trial as a favor. Though obviously confused, Kingsley had agreed, wiping the name from Harry's list and seeing to the acquittal personally. Ron and the others had openly wondered why Malfoy hadn't been on their list, but Harry had remained silent. Hermione and perhaps Luna may have supported Harry's decision, but he knew few others would be so forgiving of the Malfoys.

But Harry knew. He would never be able to rid Malfoy's terrified face from his mind. There wasn't even a particular time that Harry recalled each time. When Harry sliced him apart int he bathroom sixth year? When he caught Malfoy sobbing into the sink just moments before? When Harry saw through Volemort's eyes and saw Malfoy fighting tears under Professor Burbage's damaged body? When Malfoy entered the cellar last year? When Lucius turned a stern eye on his son in Flourish and Blotts before their second year? There was no end to the number of times Harry had seen that face.

Malfoy had been nothing but a total pain in his backside for seven years, but Harry couldn't believe that someone truly evil would wear so much fear so often. No, Harry had more or less come to the conclusion in his time since the war that Malfoy, though hardly an excuse for his choices, was just another victim of the war Voldemort began over fifty years ago.

Besides, Harry thought as the last of the first years found their seats and the Sorting Hat was put away, everything Malfoy did likely came down to wanting to please his family or keep them safe, something that Harry could only vaguely understand.

* * *

Draco hadn't lifted his eyes from the table during the Sorting Ceremony. His left eye wanted to water, but no tears came. He figured that even his physical body knew that he deserved the black eye that was now forming. It wasn't as though the ambush on the train had been much of a surprise. The train had been particularly full, seeing as there was essentially an extra year's worth of students attending that year, leaving Draco with little choice but to find a compartment that already had people in it. He at least had chosen one filled with Slytherins. Pansy had been among them, and though Draco grimaced with embarrassment at the memory of their last time seeing one another, he had slithered into the seat beside her. Thankfully, she had said nothing to him, and Draco had harbored the hope that he could go the entire train ride ignored.

He scoffed lightly at himself for having been so foolish.

At one point, he had needed to use the lavatory, and one his way back, Draco had been found by a group of students that he barely recognized. They had spewed insults and threats, which he had silently let wash over him, but his passiveness only seemed to infuriate them. The next thing Draco knew, he had been on the floor and was being pummeled as though by muggles in an alley, then abandoned when his nose began to bleed.

No one had asked what happened when he had made it back to the compartment.

"Welcome, all, welcome," Professor McGonagall called, bringing the thundering Hall to silence in the span of a few seconds. She smiled down at them, a rather unusual look for the strict witch. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, though this is the first year in the school's history that so many students are actually being welcomed back.

"As most of you are aware, this year is a particularly unique one for Hogwarts for more reasons than one. Due to the...chaos of last year's term, we are having what the Daily Prophet has labeled as a 'do-over' year." The student body murmured, and Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, reclaiming silence. "This means, whatever year you were expected to have completed last year, you will be taking this year. For some, this is asking you to repeat an entire year. For far too many, however, this will be your first chance to tackle the workload.

"Along these lines, as you may have noticed from the Sorting, this means that we have twice the number of first years that we usually do. For this reason, seventh years in each House have been drawn additional quarters than the normal dormitories to make room."

A burst of applause broke out at this announcement, bringing another rare smile to Professor McGonagall's lips.

"This year, we have several new staffing developments. As I have taken over as headmistress-" More applause. "-Professor Wilkinson from London will be taking over Transfiguration, and Professor Vector of the Arithmancy department will be the new Gryffindor Head of House."

There was more applause as an unnecessarily stocky man stood up and waved alongside Professor Vector.

"Professor Flitwick will continue his former duties as well as taking on the role of deputy headmaster."

More applause, though Draco couldn't tell if Professor Flitwick stood or not.

"Professor Carraway, from Wales, will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts."

A tall woman with a square jaw stood and waved to the continuing applause.

"And Professor Smith, also from London, will be teaching Muggle Studies."

Draco's stomach twisted painfully as a small, elderly woman stood and nodded at the students applauding her. Bile filled his throat, but he fought it down as the memory of the previous Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Burbage, being tortured above his dining table filled his mind.

The applause died away, and Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, again commanding quiet. "Now, before we can begin our feast, I must discuss something of the utmost importance with each and every one of you sitting in this Hall tonight."

Draco felt the atmosphere shift ever so slightly as the students tensed.

"This is a new year at Hogwarts, but it is also a new era for our world. This is a time of peace, unity, and kindness. It is never easy to move on from the tragic pasts we now all hold. It does not do to forget those times, but we ought to use those memories to chart our paths into a better and brighter future. Every witch and wizard here is living in the aftermath of a deadly war that cost us all something. Old habit die hard. But I must impress upon you all that while you are within the walls of this castle, blind prejudice and hate are not going to be tolerated. Each and every individual here has the same right to be here. Any disrespect or violence guided by these prejudices will be dealt with most severely."

The tension in the room increased as Professor McGonagall spoke, and Draco kept his eyes trained on the table, careful not to look around the room. All eyes would be drifting to the Slytherin table.

A small girl beside him, a true first year no older than eleven by the looks of her, sniffled. Despite having died inside long ago, Draco's heart ached at the sound. He glanced over at her. Immensely tiny with a head of tight brown curls, the girl looked downright miserable. No matter what Professor McGonagall could say, all the younger students knew that Slytherin was the bad House, the House that produced more evil witches and wizards than any other, the House that the Dark Lord himself was sorted into while at Hogwarts, the House that didn't stay to defend the castle, the House that was now being eyed with suspicion.

Draco might, but the mere child beside him didn't deserve those looks.

"Now, with the formalities out of the way, let us begin a new year!" Professor McGonagall called, sitting down rather abruptly.

She seemed to take the tension with her. Light laughter followed her words, and soon overlapping conversations filled the Hall again as food appeared on the tables.

Draco didn't move. He hadn't been able to eat properly in nearly two years, and what little he did manage to choke down usually found its way back up again. The girl beside him wiped her eyes a few times but also didn't move to take any food.

"Here, this chicken is good if my memory serves me right," Draco said, forcing a smile that may have looked more like a grimace as he dumped some food onto the little girl's plate.

She looked up at him and sniffled again. "I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I. But you're littler and stronger than I am. You need to eat."

"I'm not stronger."

"Okay. You still have to eat."

The little girl sniffled again, but she smiled. "Thank you."

Draco sighed as he wistfully watched the little girl begin to eat the chicken. It didn't take more than two bites before she was eating properly and going back for seconds. Satisfied, Draco let his attention wander the Hall, safe in the knowledge that the other students were too busy eating to notice him in the moment. After a few seconds, a found a wild head of black hair and round glasses that could only mean one person.

Potter was looking right back at him, and it took a lot in Draco not to look away. In the past, he would have glared or made a face, but now he simply stared back. After a few moments, Potter's lips twitched into the smallest of smiles before returning to his conversation with Longbottom. Draco watched Potter a moment more before he realized that Weasley's eyes were on him. Draco did drop his gaze then, not wanting to see the justified hate there.

He really was a coward.

Despite Professor McGonagall's words, this year looked as though it was going to go exactly as Draco expected it would.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco sat alone at the desk in the back of the classroom Professor Sprout had chosen for her first lesson. It was a change of pace from her usual greenhouse classroom, but Draco hadn't given it too much thought when the bulletin board in the common room had directed her classes to the second floor instead of the grounds. However, he had paid notice that, apparently due to the small number of Slytherin seventh years, the classes were separated among Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw only. The Slytherins were simply thrown in where there were desks available, it seemed.

So he sat among Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, all whispering together and shooting glances at him from time to time. Draco fiddled with his quill to avoid looking at them.

"Good morning, good morning," Professor Sprout said as she came through the classroom door, allowing it to slam shut behind her. "And welcome to another year! Last year was a damned mess, and as I cannot be sure precisely who all was here and for how long, we will be diving in as though this is all your first time as seventh years. Peachy?"

As the rest of the class murmured their agreement, Draco kept his eyes down. He felt as though he were beginning to suffocate, but he didn't dare draw attention to himself by asking to be excused.

"Alright, now-"

The classroom door burst open.

"I'm sorry, Professor!" Potter panted, eyes wide. "I'm sorry...I...I overslept."

Far from the laughter that would have followed in previous years, the class cooed at Potter's plight, and Professor Sprout nodded her head. "No worries today, Potter. Have a seat where you can find one, I know we're a bit crowded in here. But let's not be late next time, hmm?"

"No, Professor."

There was a short silence, and then Draco heard the chair beside him move as Potter made to share the desk with him. Draco swallowed dryly. He definitely couldn't breathe right. He looked around and saw all the expected glares thrown his way, as though Draco had planned all along to steal the deskmate of the century away from them.

Professor Sprout looked as though she was about to say something, then seemed to think better of it and turned to face the blackboard.

"Alright, as seventh years, you'll be facing your N.E.W.T. exams at the end of this year. Covered on those exams is a wide array of plantlife that we've studied since day one here at Hogwarts. We will be doing some reviewing of those creatures we saw in years one through six, but ultimately the detail of that review is on you and on your own time. My job this year is to make sure that you are well versed in more advanced plant forms rather than making sure you've been listening the past six years."

As Professor Sprout began scribbling down several strange names on the blackboard, the class hastily pulled out parchment and quills, wanting to jot down all they could. Draco began to copy down the names, forcing himself all the while to take deep, soothing breaths so that he didn't faint at the desk. How had he thought he could return to Hogwarts?

The world felt as though it were spinning, and Draco finally had to set down his quill and brace his head in his hands to keep from falling unconscious as his breathing only grew more and more frantic. He doubted he would be awarded the same sympathies as the Boy Who Lived if he were to interrupt the lesson.

"Hey."

Draco really wished he could pretend he didn't hear Potter whispering to him.

"Malfoy, hey. What's...what's up?" A pause. "You alright?"

Draco wanted to say something, maybe something cutting as he would in the past, maybe something akin to begging Potter to just leave him be, but all that came out was a strangled whine. His entire body shook as he tried to breathe, and he finally just shook his head. His heart was pounding, threatening to burst from his chest.

To his credit, Potter didn't say anything, leaving Draco to practice breathing through his quaking body as he pressed his palms hard into his eye sockets.

It was pathetic, Draco knew. What was stopping him from taking notes like a normal student? He should be able to face the stares and the glares, he should be able to handle the whispers and being hated. He wasn't a child. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?

Herbology passed in a haze, Draco shifting between holding his head and stuttering out any breath he could, sure he was going to drop dead any second, to scratching random words from the blackboard onto his parchment. When the bell rang, he simply dropped his head onto the desk, feeling exhausted and wanting to sleep. At least his next period was a break, then lunch. So much time before he had to be anywhere.

As Draco listened to the class filing out of the room, chattering away, he heard Potter clear his throat beside him. Slowly, every shake involuntarily drawn out, Draco lifted his head to look up at where Potter stood.

"Here." Potter offered Draco a few leafs of parchment, filled with the notes from the lesson. Draco just stared, and Potter finally set them on top of Draco's own poorly taken notes. "I can copy Hermione's notes. You...er, you can have mine. Since you weren't feeling well today."

"Uh..." Draco swallowed, and the racing in his heart slowed marginally.

"Don't mention it."

For a moment, they just stared at one another awkwardly, until Weasley and Granger came up to Potter's side, dragging him away without so much as a glance Draco's way. Only when he was completely alone did Draco's shaking subside, breathing becoming more natural. But his heartrate had only just dropped to normal when Professor Sprout ushered him out to make room for her next lesson.

The corridors weren't as empty as Draco had hoped, the passing period not yet complete. Lined up outside the classroom door was a mass of Slytherin first years, the little girl from the feast among them. She appeared far less miserable, even waving shyly as Draco passed. Despite himself, he smiled back, the last of his anxiety from Herbology slipping away.

"Oi! Malfoy!"

Draco froze as he rounded the corner, knowing full well what that tone implied. He turned and found himself alone with four Gryffindor sixth years that were advancing on him, the lead boy looking absolutely murderous. Resigned, Draco stood still as the group surrounded him.

"Listen here, you filthy fuckwad," the lead boy snarled, leaning in close to Draco. They were nearly the same height, but Draco found himself shrinking away. "I saw you talking to my sister at dinner last night, and she might be naive enough to think you were being nice, but everyone else knows better."

Damn, Draco thought, closing his eyes for a moment. Of course the one person he had broken his vow of silence for was the little sister of an overprotective and aggressive Gryffindor that was built like a troll.

"Hey," the boy snapped, poking Draco hard in the chest until he opened his eyes. "What, you think I'm just gonna go away if you close your eyes? Well, too bloody bad."

The boy drew his wand, aiming it at Draco's face.

"I'd curse your stupid face, but it looks like someone beat me to the punch if you get my drift." He smirked at his own joke, wand tip stabbing the bruised flesh around Draco's eye. Draco flinched. "Yeah, that hurt? Good."

Draco swallowed, wishing they'd just get on with whatever they were going to do. But it seemed that Gryffindors liked to play with their food.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Draco dropped his eyes.

The wand tip pressed into his black eye again, but this time, Draco stayed still. "I'm talking to you, you bastard!"

When Draco remained silent, it seemed that the Gryffindor boy had reached his limit of verbal taunts. Wand ignored, his knee slammed into Draco's stomach, doubling him over. In a few swift movements, the others surrounding them had grabbed Draco's arms, forcing the sleeves of his robes up to expose the pale skin beneath. It was rather unnecessary, Draco thought dully as he was forced roughly to his knees. He hadn't the courage or the justification to fight anyone back. He deserved whatever these teenagers had planned for his chilled skin.

"Maybe you'll talk if you've got enough fire under you."

Flames were pressed firmly into Draco's skin, igniting his skin where four wand tips assaulted him. The wand tips lifted and found new flesh to burn, repeating the process over and over again. Draco groaned involuntarily and squirmed at the pain, but thankfully, his attackers held him steady.

"See lads, he _can_ talk."

Fingers tangled in Draco's hair and threw him face first into the stone floor.

"You just have to know his buttons."

Draco took three sharp kicks to his sides before the laughter echoing off the empty corridor walls began to fade away, footfalls taking the boys around the corner and leaving Draco alone at last. When silence met his ears, Draco sat up, groaning, and inspected his arms. Dozens of tiny burns covered them, each a varying shade of shining red. They stung when Draco let his robes fall over his arm again.

"Hello, Draco."

He jumped at the soft voice. Sickening guilt threatened to drown him when he saw the wide, protruding eyes of Luna Lovegood staring at him from the end of the corridor.

Draco began to gather his scattered things, hoping maybe he was hallucinating the Lovegood girl. He had to be. Who in their right mind would willingly and so kindly speak to someone who had locked them up in a cellar for months?

"I saw the burns."

Somehow, she was beside him on the floor, offering his inkwell to him. Without lifting his eyes, Draco took it from her and shoved it deep into his bag.

"I wish I had seen who did it."

Draco stumbled to his feet. His head rushed at the movement, and he slumped against the wall. Resigned and horrified, Draco finally looked at the small blond that stood beside him.

"I know if we turned them in, Professor McGonagall would see that you were never treated like that again. At least at Hogwarts."

The Lovegood girl was _smiling_ at him.

"I deserve it," he said quietly.

Her smile fell. "It's a shame that you feel that way. Understandable, but a shame. Because you definitely don't deserve to be held down and burned."

"Well, then you're just as loony as your nickname."

She smiled again. "There he is."

"Who?"

"The old Draco. At least some of him. None of us can go back to who we used to be entirely. But it'll be nice to see your old spark come back."

"No one wants the old Draco back."

"Well, no one wanted you to go about calling people mudbloods again, I'm sure."

It was unnerving, her uninhibited honesty delivered with such a sweet voice. Draco pushed off the wall and made to walk away, but the Lovegood girl followed him.

"Before I joined the DA two years ago, other students were quite cruel to me as well," she continued as she followed Draco into the entrance hall. "No one burned my skin or gave me a black eye, but their words were cutting in their own way."

Draco fought the urge to run away from her. She of all people should hate him. Yet she walked alongside him, calmly speaking as though he wasn't the absolute scum of the earth that he was.

"You know, Draco," she said, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs that led to the basements and dungeons. "Because hate is learned, it can also be unlearned. Sometimes, I think people forget, or don't know, that." She rested a hand on his arm. The burns beneath the fabric stung, but Draco didn't flinch away. "Times change, and you are not as alone as you might think."

Copper hit his tongue, and Draco realized that he had been biting his lip. The Lovegood girl gave him a final smile and walked back toward the staircase that led to the upper levels, leaving him alone and desperately confused.

* * *

"Why were you late, Harry?" Hermione asked as they found their way into a set of armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. "Didn't Ron wake you?"

"I did wake him!" Ron said indignantly. "He sat up and even talked to me! Said he'd meet up at breakfast, so I left."

"Did I?" Harry asked. He hadn't remembered that. But with his haphazard sleeping habits, he supposed it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility. "Hey, Hermione, could I borrow your Herbology notes?"

She shot him a sharp look. "Didn't you take your own notes? It wasn't as if you had much to distract you."

"Well..." he began, then thought better of it. Understanding as Hermione could be, she may not have approved of him simply giving away his notes to Malfoy. "I guess I was just listening. Wanted to make sure I heard it all instead of worrying about writing it down."

Hermione's gaze intensified, and Harry willed himself not to look too guilty. He shrugged sheepishly, and she sighed, pulling out her notes and handing them over.

"That's it?" Ron asked, scandalized. "No lecture? No silent treatment? No nothing?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We hardly take notes in Herbology like that. It's not going to happen again, right, Harry?"

The look in her eyes already answered the question for him. "Of course not, no."

Harry took out a fresh roll of parchment and his quill and began copying the notes, pleasantly surprised that he remembered most of it without needed to read it word for word. It took barely ten minutes, and when he sat back and offered Hermione's notes back, he wasn't surprised to find her head buried in a textbook.

"Bit of light reading?" He asked, nudging the voluminous book.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and took her notes back. "I suppose you could say that. Seeing as how no one was in any condition to do any work over the holidays, I took it upon myself to read the textbooks before term."

"So that makes this, what, your fifth time to read this thing?" Ron asked.

"Only my second," Hermione said, unfazed. "But I'm wanting to make sure I'm prepared for my first Arithmancy lesson tomorrow. There are a few concepts I'd like to ask Professor Vector about once we've begun."

Ron shared a significant look with Harry before dramatically slumping over in his chair, arms thrown out and waving in Hermione's face.

"Come on," he whined. "You don't even have that class until tomorrow. This might be our only break period where none of us have homework to do all year. Let's just relax, shall we?"

"No one's stopping you from relaxing, Ron."

Ron sat up, crossing his arms grumpily before muttering something about "missing the point."

Harry smiled, enjoying the familiarity of the scene. Things would never quite be normal again, but at least some things hadn't changed.

The following morning, Harry sat up in bed, actually awake this time, rubbing his eyes as hard as he could. There was no way this little sleep was good for him. Between the nightmares and his violent tossing and turning, Harry was lucky to get a couple hours of sleep a night. Before returning to school, it had hadn't mattered. But now, he was expected to be up early and be productive throughout the day, not to mention staying up late to tackle the mountain of homework that was likely to accumulate by the end of the week. Already he had a four-feet-long essay over the different ways one could use transfiguration magic to conceal their identity, and with Potions, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts coming up that day, he was likely to receive more.

Suppressing a groan, Harry threw on his robes and splashed some water on his face before making his way toward the dungeons. He had missed breakfast, but he hadn't eaten breakfast in so long that it hardly mattered. He was cutting it close enough to the start of the lesson already, but he was sure he wouldn't be late today.

And technically, he wasn't.

Professor Slughorn had only just risen from his desk when Harry quietly entered the dungeons. The squat wizard grinned at him, winking as though they were old friends, and gestured for Harry to find a seat.

"Good morning! As I'm sure you're tired of hearing, it is wonderful to see all you seventh years returning to Hogwarts this year to finish your education proper."

Harry glanced around. The N.E.W.T. level Potions class held the fewest students of all his lessons, and the students had clumped together at six desks arranged into three tables. Ron and Hermione sat at one desk pressed with Ernie Macmillan and another Hufflepuff Harry was sure hadn't been in the class his sixth year; four Ravenclaws sat together at another table; and at the last table sat Draco Malfoy, entirely alone and eyes downcast. Harry quietly dropped into the seat beside him.

"Now, we may be a few short of our count before all last year's nastiness," Professor Slughorn continued, pulling uncomfortably at his tie. "But Mr. Martinez here had decided to join us after a chat with our new headmistress, and I am pleased to say that he is up to the task of making up for lost time!"

The Hufflepuff Harry didn't recognize grinned nervously at the praise.

"For today, I thought an easy lesson would do. Something to start the new era off with a bang without hurting our heads too much, how does that sound, hm?"

Harry saw Ron roll his eyes, and Hermione looked slightly put off at the thought that their first Potions lesson being too easy. Without moving his head, Harry glanced at Malfoy.

Just as he had in Herbology the morning before, Malfoy was breathing strangely and seemed to be forcing himself not to bolt from the room. It wasn't at all the Malfoy Harry had known for seven years, and while a change from the pretentious and smug prat was nice, it didn't suit Malfoy to look so downright petrified in the safety of a Potions class.

"Today, I'd like for you all to brew me something different," Slughorn continued. "Your deskmate will be your partner until Christmas, at which point in time we will mix it up for the second part of term. Go ahead and clear your desks, and I will come around and give each pair a potion to brew."

Partners with Malfoy until Christmas. Oddly, the thought didn't disgust or disappoint Harry as much as he thought it should. Truth be told, Harry was more concerned Malfoy was going to vomit all over him.

"You alright today?" Harry asked quietly as the other students began talking and moving.

Malfoy took a deep breath, his inhale worryingly shaky, and nodded. "Peachy, Potter."

Harry didn't believe him, but at that time, Professor Slughorn approached their desk with a wide grin.

"Alright, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Today I'd like you two to concoct a De-Aging Solution. You can find the ingredients in your textbook under Pellis Novis. Now hop to!"

But neither Harry nor Malfoy stood as Slughorn waddled away, instead opening their textbooks to find the recipe. The effects reminded Harry of some of the muggle creams that Aunt Petunia used to put on her face every evening. It didn't look terribly complicated except for a bolded note that, if not thickened correctly, the potion could cause wrinkles instead of removing them. At least it didn't look likely to explode all over them. Harry looked over at Malfoy.

Malfoy was staring at his open book, not moving a muscle.

"Er...I'll just get the ingredients, then, shall I?"

Malfoy nodded minutely and silently began to set up his cauldron. Harry hesitated for a moment before going to the store cupboard to collect their ingredients. It took only a few minutes, the potion requiring so few items. Before long, Harry had returned to the desk, where Malfoy had the cauldron near boiling already. Neither said anything as Harry laid out his haul.

"How about I chop and you stir?" Harry suggested. Malfoy nodded again, and Harry set to work on the butterfly wings while Malfoy opened the moss oil. At least Malfoy seemed to be feeling better, if his steadied breathing was anything to go by, making things considerably less uncomfortable.

The dungeon classroom was soon filled with the hissing of several potions brewing with the misty fog to match. Harry and Malfoy's own potion didn't seem to be doing a lot of steaming, but it had turned the deep blue that the recipe described as the near-end point as the clocked ticked closer to the bell. When a particularly loud bubbling erupted from the Ravenclaw table, Harry leaned in closer to Malfoy, who was carefully stirring.

"Is it supposed to be...doing anything?" he asked, eyeing the liquid as it began to darken at the change of direction in Malfoy's ladle.

Malfoy scoffed lightly, but his voice wasn't the scathing tone Harry expected. "No. It's mostly different oils and some herbs. We'd be in trouble if it were making the noises you're hearing."

"Oh," Harry said. He chuckled once. "Makes sense."

"I should hope so, considering the properties of the ingredients."

"Er...what?"

Malfoy removed the ladle, allowing the potion to simmer, and looked at Harry. It struck Harry just how exhausted Malfoy looked, being this close. His pale eyes were rimmed in red and skin tinged in grey hung in deep bags beneath. His left eye that Harry had noticed was swollen at the feast had developed into a full blown black eye the day before, and it only looked worse for wear today now that the swelling was mostly gone, giving the discolored skin there a deflated appearance. Pale skin hung from his high cheekbones and his lips hardly held any color, giving Malfoy a very haunted appearance. Which, Harry realized, was probably not only the best description for Malfoy's appearance, but also the very cause.

"Didn't you notice that all the ingredients were oil-based or from a creature less than six inches in length?" Malfoy asked.

"I...well, no, not really."

"Ah."

It was the strangest sensation in Harry's middle, experiencing a civil conversation with Malfoy. Part of him almost wished for the usual sneer.

"Well," Malfoy said, turning back to the desk to clear away their ingredient scraps. "Oils obviously have smoothing and softening properties, but it's the small stature and delicacy of the creatures we used that'll give this potion the...ah...punch," For some reason, Malfoy flinched. "it needs."

Harry watched as Malfoy gathered the unused pieces of hummingbird feathers, butterfly wings, beetle eyes, hornet bodies, and salamander skin. His hands shook, though he seemed otherwise steady.

"What happened to your eye?"

Malfoy froze, hands full of scraps and eyes falling to the ground. "I...I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, Malfoy, I'm not actually an idiot." Harry said it specifically to try and goad Malfoy into maybe throwing the word back at him as an insult, but Malfoy only gulped and turned his back to Harry.

"Trick stair on the staircase," he said stiffly. "I...I wasn't paying attention."

But Harry knew, as Malfoy left to dispose of the scraps, that didn't sound right.

"No, your eye was swollen at the Welcoming Feast," Harry pressed when Malfoy returned and checked on the potion. "I saw you, remember?"

Malfoy just continued to stir.

"What happened?"

Malfoy's eyes fell to the floor again as he shook his head. "Nothing I didn't deserve."

He said it so quietly that Harry wasn't sure he heard right, but it struck him in the chest just the same. There was a savage sense of childish justice thinking that all the trouble Malfoy had ever caused him was being returned, but Harry knew that no black eye likely delivered multiple-on-one would have satisfied that. No, Malfoy's punishment had already been dealt when his father brought Voldemort into his home.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but it was then that the bell rang.

"Oh, dear!" Slughorn cried. "So sorry, it seems we lost track of time! Just label a vial and leave a sample of your potion on my desk and we will discuss your marks next lesson!"

Malfoy grabbed his bag from under the desk and fled amidst the chaos of everyone trying to pack up, leaving Harry with his mouth slightly agape at their desk.

"Come on, Harry, let's go!" Ron called as he walked past, his and Hermione's own vial in hand. "Malfoy leave you with the clean up?"

"What?" Harry shook his head and began busying himself with his own vial. "No, he cleaned most of it up already."

"Yeah, well, good thing." Ron and Harry dropped their vials off on Slughorn's desk. "About time he actually pulled his own weight in Potions, eh? Rather than letting his name do it."

Harry didn't have anything to say to that, but it felt wrong to stay silent, somehow. Vaguely annoyed, he Vanished the contents of his cauldron and gathered his bag to follow his friends out of the dungeons.


	4. Chapter 4

Three in the morning was far less late than it used to be. Draco had always grown up a morning person. He had always fallen asleep with the sun and woke with it. It was only when he began working tirelessly to repair the Vanishing Cabinet in his sixth year that time began to turn into a relative concept for him. Falling asleep became harder, staying asleep even worse. Now, three in the morning was practically his mid-morning.

A warm breeze swept by, tickling the scabs that freckled his exposed arms. The Astronomy Tower was among the tallest points at Hogwarts, giving way to what many would consider to be a breathtaking view of the Forbidden Forest and distant mountains. For Draco, however, the Astronomy Tower only gave way to one of his most haunting memories.

The Astronomy Tower was the spot where things were going to change no matter what for Draco, but he mostly dwelled on the fact that it was the spot where things could have changed for the better. He had been supposed to kill the famed Albus Dumbledore. A frightened sixteen-year-old boy with nothing more than a quivering wand had been expected to murder the greatest wizard of their time in cold blood. Draco had been mostly ready to do it, too. He had spent the better part of a full year resigning himself to his task, sick at the very thought despite his outward cavalier attitude for others to see.

That had been the year Draco began struggling to keep his meals down.

When the time to murder had finally come, unsurprisingly, Draco had hesitated. He had latched onto the conversation that Dumbledore began, wanting nothing more than to put off the moment when he would become a murderer. But when the headmaster had offered Draco help, offered his family shelter...it had ripped the breath from Draco.

He had intended to accept.

Draco had intended to accept Dumbledore's offer, make that decision for his family, keep them safe from the evil that resided in their own home. But Draco had hesitated, and those precious seconds had cost Dumbledore his life and Draco the last shreds of his innocence.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands until they stung his scalp. For the millionth time since stepping foot onto the grounds, Draco thought about what a foolish hope returning to Hogwarts had been. There was no way for things to actually get better, no matter what the Lovegood girl kept telling him.

She had begun showing up at his elbow between most of his classes, walking with Draco and speaking as though they were good friends. It was unnerving to walk arm in arm with the girl he had kept locked in his cellar for months on end, listening to her babble on about how the unusually warm weather was a result of some kind of invisible dragon flower that only bloomed among spent coffee grounds or about how she was rather unimpressed with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She was repeatedly unfazed by Draco's lack of contribution to their conversations. But, feeling that he owed it to the girl not to ignore or avoid her, Draco let her walk alongside him.

Potter's behavior, however, caused him far more anxiety.

Draco had expected Potter to return the favor of seven years' worth of bullying with the whole of the wizarding world at his back. It would have been the most justified schoolyard vengeance likely in modern history. Instead, Draco was met with a Potter that asked if he was alright and took notes for him. Potter caring even remotely about Draco's black eye hurt almost as much as the actual punch had. He didn't deserve any shred of kindness, yet Potter of all people was there at his desk in two separate lessons, offering it. It was bewildering, even without the added breathing trouble and heavy heartbeat that seemed to accompany it.

Draco had managed to avoid Potter in the previous morning's Herbology lesson, as the class had met in the greenhouses to inspect a rather grumpy but tiny whomping willow sapling. But in just a few hours, Draco would be locked in the dungeons with Potter at his desk, damned to partnership for the next few months.

Draco climbed onto the open window ledge and let his feet dangle in the open air. Falling from the tower hadn't been how Dumbledore died, but it was what the body endured immediately following. Draco leaned over so that his chest was over his knees, only the seat of his pants keeping him on the stone. He had been the cause for the late headmaster's death, and he felt compelled to know what death felt like because of it. He could scoot forward just a few inches and fall, his body likely reacting as Dumbledore's reportedly had, landing with limbs struck out at unnatural angles and eyes still open.

How would it feel to simply stop being? Stop existing?

It was a fascinating dream, Draco thought as the breeze stilled around him. Somewhere, a clock struck four in the morning, but he didn't move.

* * *

Malfoy was avoiding looking at him. Between Hermione and Ginny, Harry knew he was a bit unobservant at times, but this time he was sure that he was being ignored. Slughorn was bustling around, delivering marks from the last lesson, and Malfoy was determinedly staring at a blank spot on the wall, shock-still and breathing shallowly.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy!" Slughorn boomed as she approached their desk, causing Malfoy to jump. "I must say, I was immensely impressed with your De-Aging Solution! Not a thing wrong with it! Top marks, top marks, and most curious, too..." He trailed away and eyed them with a peculiar smirk. "Anyway, excellent work, my boys! In fact, I might just use it on myself later."

He chuckled bodily to himself as he walked back to the front of the room. Harry sneaked a glance at Malfoy, but it seemed that the praise had gone unheard. His eyes were trained on the same spot, back just as rigid, breathing just as strained.

"As much fun as last lesson was," Slughorn said to the class at large, "today will be bookwork, I'm afraid. So, quills, parchment, and textbooks out, please!" The class scrambled as they complied. "We will be diving into the more detailed work of ingredient properties, uses, dangers, and origins. To aide in this, you will each compose an essay for me on the 12 categories of major potions ingredients, to be turned in next Tuesday. It should be no less than six feet in length."

A collective groan followed these words, but Slughorn either didn't hear it or paid it no mind. He immediately dived into his lecture, wand waving as he added bulleted points to the board. Before long, only the scratching quills and Slughorn's oily voice filled the classroom.

Again, Harry looked over at Malfoy, who was diligently taking notes.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. Mafloy's hand froze mid-word. "For prying the other day. About your eye."

Malfoy's breath hitched as he shrugged.

"Well...whatever happened," Harry continued, trying to continue taking notes. "It isn't right."

A few moments crept by as Harry scribbled something down about wood-based ingredients. As Slughorn began to drone on about the different uses, Harry realized Malfoy had set his quill down at some point. He had his head resting lightly on the fingertips of his right hand, eyes closed and breathing as though partially submerged in water.

Alarmed, Harry whispered, "Hey, hey...I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Please stop," Malfoy breathed, his quavering voice so soft that Harry wasn't entirely sure he had actually spoken.

"What? Stop what?"

"Being...being civil...to me."

"Er...what?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused.

Malfoy gasped quietly for air, finally opening his eyes and looking at Harry directly. Fear clouded those pale eyes, but there wasn't an ounce of confusion in them as he whispered in between shaking breaths, "I don't...I don't deserve anyone's kindness. I just...I'm just here to...to finish school without...without causing a scene."

"But..." Harry shook his head. "Treating you like a...like a human being isn't causing a scene, Malfoy."

Malfoy stuttered out a shaky scoff and nodded at a spot over Harry's shoulder. Harry turned and saw the nearby Ravenclaw table, all four taking notes. But after a second of watching, Harry saw it. Every so often, one or more of them would glance his and Malfoy's way, then whisper to their desk partner, looking suspicious. It wasn't hard to guess what it meant.

Harry turned back to Malfoy. He had his eyes closed again and was trying to take deep breaths, but his shaking had become so violent that it wasn't proving very possible.

"Gossip comes and goes," Harry whispered. "You know that. Their opinions don't matter anyway." When Malfoy didn't respond, Harry continued. "I know you're not some criminal that deserves to be treated like a human punching bag."

Though he didn't reply, Malfoy opened his eyes, looking overwhelmingly doubtful and scared. His eyes shifted forward to the board. His breathing hadn't eased any, and his hand shook terribly as he lifted his quill and attempted to write something.

Harry sighed, wondering if he ought to leave well enough alone. But he was a Gryffindor and The Boy Who Never Listened, and Harry reached out to Malfoy's left hand that rested on the desk between them. His hand hesitated above Malfoy's for a fraction of a second before dropping down and landing on the cold skin below.

Malfoy didn't react outside of pausing in his note-taking, and Harry tried to blindly take it as a good sign.

"Really, Malfoy."

Harry gave Malfoy's hand a squeeze before letting go and returning to his own subpar notes, feeling tired. He didn't try to talk to Malfoy anymore that lesson, though he did notice that the Slytherin's breathing had returned to normal.


	5. Chapter 5

The warm September winds were pushed aside as the chill of October swept over the Hogwarts grounds, Halloween on the horizon. Harry walked along the empty corridor the Saturday before the Halloween Feast, holding back a shiver.

Halloween had always been such an exciting time for Harry. This year felt different for more than one reason, namely the cost the previous year had on his general happiness, but this was also the first Halloween that Harry knew it was the anniversary of his parents' murders. Perhaps seventeen years of never knowing this fact had something to do with it, but Harry didn't feel particularly sad over it. As it had been his entire life, Halloween was just another day. In a way, he was grateful for it. It made it easier to think about them.

He stopped by a passing window. Pinpricks in the sky flew over what Harry knew was the Quidditch pitch. Ron and Ginny were out there now, practicing with the rest of the Gryffindor team.

Harry had been offered team captaincy again, but along with his position as Seeker, he had declined the offer in favor of being as normal a student as possible. So instead, Ginny had been given the title when she returned as a Chaser.

Harry's stomach churned at the thought of Ginny. It had been weeks since they last spoke, but the memory of that last conversation still played uncomfortably in his mind when his memories clouded him too much to sleep at night.

It had been the first Saturday of term, and Ginny had finally caught Harry alone. He had been waiting under a large tree on the grounds for Ron and Hermione to return from retrieving Ron's bag in the common room so that the three of them could begin their Transfiguration homework. Harry had been going through his notes, wanting to impress Hermione by starting without her, when he heard a nearby door slam.

_Ginny strode across the courtyard, eyes trained on Harry with a determined fire. It reminded Harry of when she had first kissed him in the common room after that Quidditch win his sixth year, though the anticipation he was feeling was drastically different._

_An excuse to rush off to the library sat on his tongue as she stopped in front of him, but she lifted her hands up, stopping him._

_"I'm not an idiot, Harry, and you're not going anywhere until we've had a talk," she said fiercely._

_Harry sat back against the tree trunk, sighing in defeat. "Alright. You...you can start."_

_Ginny eyed him incredulously. "I waited for you. I've_ been _waiting for you. I thought that after you killed Voldemort, once everything was over, you'd come back like you promised."_

_Knowing he'd regret it, Harry said, "I never asked you to wait. I had told you to go on and live a happy life without me."_

_"You're not that thick, Harry. You knew I was waiting."_

_Harry dropped his gaze. "Yes."_

_Silence hung between them, tension palpable. Finally, she spoke, voice tight. "Am I still anything you want?"_

_"Ginny..."_

_"Answer the question. If you're just struggling after everything and need more time, I can handle that. I can give you that. But if this is something else, I deserve to know. Do you still love me and want to be with me?"_

_Harry sighed and raised his eyes to meet Ginny's, knowing that, despite not wanting to, he owed it to her to look her in the eye when he broke her heart._

_"No," he said. "I don't. I'm sorry."_

_Uncharacteristic tears sprang up in Ginny's eyes. "Can I know why?"_

_"I...I can't say exactly. Too much has changed._ I've _changed too much. I just can't go back to the way things were."_

_"Things don't have to go back to the way they were," Ginny said, her voice soft, nearly pleading. "We can start from now and go forward."_

_Harry swallowed. "No, Ginny. I can't. I...I wish I knew why it happened this way."_

_"Is there someone else?"_

_The question took Harry by surprise, but he managed not to say or do anything so foolish as when a similar situation befell him and Cho. "No, no. There's no one else. It's nothing like that."_

_"So this is really what you want? Because...if you say yes, just know that this is it, I'll let go forever. I'm not coming back."_

_Harry knew the gravity of Ginny's ultimatum, that this was a bridge he would never be given the chance to cross again. But he also know what was true in his heart, what was best for them both. "Yes, it is."_

_Ginny blinked, and a single tear fell from her eye, sliding down her freckled cheek. Horrible, tormenting guilt gripped Harry's heart, but he remained where he was as she turned on her heel and stormed away. She didn't look back._

Harry rubbed his eyes as he watched the far away practice. A chilly wind passed by, tickling his nose as he thought that, though unbelievably difficult and uncomfortable, he was quite glad that he finally spoken with Ginny and set things straight. At least now she had her closure and could truly move on with her life. Harry likely would be involved with the Weasley family for a long time to come, and he hoped that one day he and Ginny could be at least cordial.

Ron and Hermione had appeared only a few minutes after he had spoken with Ginny. They had apparently seen Ginny storming away, and Ron had cut over Hermione's tactful questions to demand Harry tell them if he had broken things off with Ginny for good. When Harry had said that he had, the explosion from Ron was almost worse than breaking his sister's heart. It had been a strained few days after that, but eventually the air had cleared and Ron decided (though Harry suspected the Hermione had helped things along) that Harry and Ginny were better off with other people and that his sister deserved someone "a bit more cheerful."

The shiver Harry had been staving off finally took him, and he wished he had thought to grab his cloak. At least thus far, his seventh year at Hogwarts was more alive with personal drama than it was any actual danger. It was a nice change of pace, though Harry privately missed the straightforwardness of having a tangible enemy to confront. There wasn't anything he could do to ward off the unpleasant feeling of being a monster except to lie awake half the night wondering if there was something else he could have done.

"Do you miss it?"

Harry about leapt out of his skin at the voice behind him. He spun around and found Malfoy, black eye long healed and gone, standing a few feet behind him in the empty corridor.

"Miss what?"

"Quidditch," Malfoy clarified, nodding his head toward the open window Harry now had his back against.

"Oh." Harry relaxed. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Why aren't you playing this year?"

Harry shrugged. "I just wanted a normal year. Dropping Quidditch makes things...less demanding."

Malfoy nodded, eyes still looking out the window.

"Are you playing still?" Harry asked.

Malfoy laughed humorlessly. "I guess you could say I quit for the same reasons, but if I were honest with myself, I resigned to save whatever pride I have left. Even my own House wouldn't want me representing them, I have no doubt."

Harry blinked, taken aback by Malfoy's tone. In the past several weeks, Malfoy had taken to being his silent partner in Potions, only speaking when Harry asked him a direct question. Harry hadn't noticed anymore of the strange breathing trouble he had seen those first few days, and he supposed that meant things were maybe getting better. But to hear such self-loathing coming from Malfoy's mouth was even stranger than the casualness of their encounters since the start of term.

"That can't be true," Harry said after a moment. "You were the Slytherin's Seeker for six years, they can't just sack you for no reason."

Malfoy scoffed softly. "They have every reason, Potter."

Harry sighed. "You were acquitted. Why do you insist on punishing yourself like this?"

"Because I should be punished," Malfoy said savagely.

"So you think you're the best one to carry out that punishment?"

"It's not just me." Malfoy's eyes lost their angry edge the moment the words left his mouth, which stayed open slightly as though forgotten in his confusion. He took a small step back, looking vaguely alarmed.

Harry, however, was annoyed. "So other students _did_ give you that black eye! What else are you letting others do to you when the teachers are out of sight?" When Malfoy only gulped in reply, Harry groaned, rubbing his face once with his hand. "Malfoy, you heard McGonagall at the Welcoming Feast; nobody wants that to happen."

"Don't try to fool yourself," Malfoy said quietly as he inched down the corridor backwards, looking miserable.

Harry reached out and grabbed the front of Malfoy's cloak and pushed him against the wall. Abrupt fury lapped at Harry's stomach.

"It doesn't matter what a bunch of kids think is right or wrong, or how they think justice ought to be carried out," he growled, glowering at his feet. "This is exactly the kind of bullshit that the war was supposed to put an end to! All this hate was supposed to die with Voldemort!"

They stood there for a moment, Harry's fists pinning Malfoy against the stone wall, before Harry realized that Malfoy was shaking. He raised his eyes to meet Malfoy's, finding them closed tight as Malfoy bit his lip against some emotion that he was obviously fighting to keep down. Guilt replaced Harry's sudden anger quickly, and his fists unclenched but stayed wrapped in the fabric of Malfoy's cloak.

"Malfoy?"

The shaking seemed to grow worse.

"Malfoy?" Harry gently pressed his knuckles into Malfoy's chest.

At last, those pale eyes snapped open. Harry's heart sank at the blankness there. He knew that look, that faraway gaze as someone separated themselves from pain.

"I'm not..." Harry exhaled. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Malfoy's voice was flat and quiet. "You ought to."

"I'm not going to."

"Alright."

"Malfoy, look at me." Nothing. "Malfoy!"

Gray eyes met green, and it was only then that Harry became overly aware of how close they were. Mere inches separated their faces. He could feel Malfoy's stuttering breath hitting his lips as they stared at one another for several moments.

The shaking in Malfoy's body calmed as the seconds ticked by, and finally, Malfoy broke the silence.

"What?"

Harry mentally shook himself. "Tell McGonagall."

"No." Malfoy didn't ask what he had meant, confirming all of Harry's suspicions at once.

"Someone else, then."

"I have no one, Potter."

"I see Luna walking with you in the passing periods sometimes."

Pain flickered in Malfoy's eyes. "She's a fool for seeking my company."

"No, just wise beyond her years."

"Then you're a fool, too."

Harry smirked. "Yep."

Malfoy looked as though he would have liked to roll his eyes, and for a moment Harry felt as though he were looking back in time. But the sensation was shattered when Malfoy sighed sadly and looked down. "I don't need protection. Anything that comes my way is well deserved."

"You are absolutely infuriating, you know that?"

Malfoy shot him a confused look.

"I'm not letting people get away with it, even if you're not going to help." Harry finally released Malfoy's cloak and took a step back. Malfoy stayed against the wall, looking increasingly lost. "I didn't go through all the hell I did just to let some stupid kids keep acting like this."

Approaching footsteps echoed in the far end of the corridor, and Malfoy started as though burned. With a last puzzled look at Harry, Malfoy turned and strode off, leaving Harry standing alone.

* * *

Harry bloody Potter had no right, absolutely no right.

Draco stumbled into the Slytherin common room, nearly falling down the marble steps in his haste to reach the privacy of his dormitory. An unexpected perk of being the only male seventh year in his House, Draco had been given his own bedroom, no larger than a broom closet. It sat just to the left of the boy's main dormitory door and opened only at his hand, no password necessary for total privacy. He rushed in, slamming the door behind him as he collapsed onto the bed.

For the first time in years, Draco was angry. He had felt nothing but fear, depression, and emptiness since his sixth year, which only increased as the war progressed. But now, as he laid on his bed in the wake of his bewildering encounter with Potter, Draco actually felt angry.

Potter had no right to think of defending him.

The politeness that they fallen into in the past several weeks was one thing. It could be explained away as a more passive form of ignoring who Draco was. But for Potter to slam him against the wall and demand justice for Draco...it was too far.

He didn't leave his room the rest of the day, instead brooding and trying to complete some of his homework. At first distracted, it only took a few scratch-outs on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay to kick Draco into some real focus. Before things got out of hand, Draco had actually enjoyed his schoolwork, a secret he kept from all his friends and fans at the time to keep up a certain image, but he had relished in the knowledge school brought him and the marks he earned. Because of the difficulty and sheer volume of work that the seventh years were undertaking, Draco could actually forget that he was a complete waste of a human being in the time he spent working.

The distraction only last until midnight.

Draco put the last of his completed homework away, left with only a Herbology diagram to label. It wasn't due until mid-week, and he figured he'd take care of it sometime the following day anyway. But as the moonlight from his enchanted window filled the small room, Draco decided that he had done enough for the night.

He took off his robes, stripping to just a tee shirt and boxer briefs before climbing into bed. There was little hope that sleep would come to him, but Draco pulled his covers around him all the same, punching the lumps out of his pillow before dropping onto it. Only a few minutes passed before he was brooding again.

Harry fucking Potter.

The memory of Potter's hands against his chest as he demanded Draco seek help made his stomach twist. Those ridiculous green eyes imploring him to stop hating himself was what was so infuriating, not Draco's behavior. To everyone else, Draco was the one being rational, not Potter and his bleeding save-everyone mentality that had no place being directed at Draco Malfoy.

He groaned, throwing the blankets from his body as he stood up, giving up hope on sleep for the time being as his legs began to ache. Draco pulled on his discarded pants and threw on his cloak.

The walk to the Astronomy Tower took barely any time. His feet knew the way, his body prepared for all the possible routes to avoid detection. When he finally made it, Draco let the cold wind slap his face without flinching. He breathed a sigh, the cold air filling him up like a drink.

"Come here often?"

Draco whipped around at Potter's voice. He stood a few feet behind him, casually standing at the top of the staircase as though they had agreed to meet.

"What's it to you?" Draco asked, meaning to sound sneering but only coming across as wary.

Potter shrugged, stepping more onto the tower. "Just thought I'd be the only one up here past curfew."

"Well, I doubt any teacher would say anything to you," Draco said, eyes turning back to the darkness beyond the ledge.

Potter didn't dispute the fact. He stood a couple feet from Draco, looking out on the grounds as well. Neither said anything for a long time.

"I was here that night, you know."

Draco glanced at Potter. He had his head somewhat bowed, eyes on the stone ledge.

"The night Dumbledore was killed," Potter continued when Draco remained quiet.

"Of course you were," Draco said tiredly. It never failed that Potter was in the very place he ought not to be. Besides, Draco had suspected even at the time that Dumbledore hadn't been alone. He had been certain he heard the headmaster speaking to someone before Draco reached the landing. Had he not been petrified at the time, Draco might have concluded for himself that Potter was somewhere on that tower with them.

"He Froze me, though. I couldn't move. I just had to watch."

Merlin, why was Potter here, trying to relive one of Draco's most troubling memories with him? The anger from before simmered in his stomach, though all it managed to do was make him feel ill. He closed his eyes and cradled his head in his hands, elbows propped on the ledge. He rubbed his hands up and down his face several times, then into his hair as he straightened. He wasn't going to stand there and let Potter do this to him. Potter might be the poster boy for the wizarding world, but Draco didn't deserve this kind of polite reminiscence of war times. It was too close to something friends would do. He turned and made for the staircase, nearly making it to the first stair when Potter spoke.

"You were going to accept."

That stopped Draco in his tracks.

"I saw your wand drop," Potter continued, and Draco heard footfalls draw nearer. He didn't turn around, though. "I know you were scared. I know you didn't want what happened."

"Why are you here?" Draco asked.

Thankfully, Potter knew Draco wasn't being literal. "The was hell on everyone. Including you."

"But why are you here? Why are you doing this to me?" Draco finally turned then, finding Potter with his hands in his pockets and brows knitted in confusion.

"What am I doing to you?"

Draco sighed. "Nevermind."

He had stayed long enough. Draco made to leave again, but a warm hand grabbed his elbow, stopping him. The touch made him flinch, a recent corridor even playing all too vividly in his mind and making his shoulder throb.

"Let go."

"No."

"Potter..."

"Will you just listen?"

Draco let himself be turned around, Potter's hand still clutching his arm as though to keep him in place. Being so close, Draco noticed that Potter looked just as exhausted as he felt.

"I...I don't know what you think it is I'm doing to you," he began. "But I don't want to cause any trouble. I just...I just want things to be right. I want to make them right again."

"Things were never quite right between us."

Potter's lips twitched as though wanting to smile. "Maybe not, but I think things could be different now, don't you?"

The thumb on Draco's arm began to move, rubbing small circles in the fabric there. Draco felt his mouth go dry.

"I'm a Death Eater, Potter," he whispered, voice almost covered by the wind. "I've done...horrible things. I don't deserve to have things be different now."

"You keep using that word, 'deserve'." Potter said. "But what makes you think that you're the only one who knows what people deserve?"

Despite himself, Draco scoffed. "I suppose we all ought to leave such things up to the Chosen One?"

"If it means you giving yourself a second chance, then yes."

That wasn't the reply Draco had been expecting. Those green eyes were set, completely void of any teasing or doubt. Draco blinked a few times, eyes feeling misty suddenly. It was late. He was tired. He didn't need to be having this conversation with this person at this hour.

"No matter what you think," Potter said, "You are allowed a second chance. You were acquitted of your crimes, and I know you have to want things to change. And if you're willing to do it, then you deserve that second chance."

Potter let his hand fall, and the chill that took its place extended into Draco's chest as a feeling he didn't want to describe settled within. They looked at one another for a few seconds before Potter stepped around Draco and descended the stairs, disappearing into the darkness of the castle.

Draco didn't move much until sunrise.


	6. Chapter 6

The following morning, Draco actually made it to breakfast, never having gone to bed the night before. He arrived early enough that only a handful of students were there, sipping coffee and sleepily buttering toast. Only a pair of third years sat at the Slytherin table, and Draco made sure to given them plenty of room, sitting at the very end of the table nearest the doors. He poured a cup of coffee and held it with both hands, savoring the warmth.

"What a wonderful surprise, Draco!"

He groaned inwardly. Of course the Lovegood girl would be an early riser, even on the weekend. Without invitation, she dropped into the seat beside him and reached for some cereal and the pitcher of orange juice.

"Uh...this is the Slytherin table."

"Oh yes, it is," she said conversationally. "Were you unsure? It's been an awfully long time since I've seen you here. I suspect forgetting which table is which is to be expected."

"No, it's not that, it's just..."

"You're wondering why I'm not at the Ravenclaw table?"

"Well...yeah."

"Harry asked me to keep an eye on you." Draco choked on his coffee, scalding his throat. "Found his way into my dormitory before the sun rose just to ask. Gave my dorm mates a right scare. But they didn't seem to mind once they realized it was Harry. I suppose being famous can have that effect."

Wiping the coffee from his lip, Draco struggled to find his voice. "What do you mean, Potter asked you to keep an eye on me?"

She took a long drink from her glass. "Oh, he apparently found out that you've been being attacked in the corridors between lessons." He shot her a wide-eyed look as she took a bite of cereal. "I would have told him that you could take care of yourself, but it really seemed that you can't if these attack are still happening. So, here I am. Granted, I probably would have sat with you this morning regardless, seeing as how rare it is that you come to meals, but Harry's concern had me planning on seeking you out after my cereal instead of hunting for dandelions."

"Dandelions?" Draco asked, sidetracked. "Lovegood, it's almost November."

"Well, they are weeds, and weeds have a natural survivability even in the colder months. And if you're comfortable, you're more than welcome to call me 'Luna'."

"Uhm...sure thing...Luna."

Draco watched her eat her way through her cereal as he sipped his coffee, not really seeing her. He couldn't _believe_ Potter, sicking a skinny little Ravenclaw to act as his bodyguard. Technically, Draco could believe it, but the audacity of it was utterly mortifying. He downed the rest of his cup and set it on the table hard.

Luna smiled. "It won't do to be angry with Harry, Draco. He's just that way. Besides, if you truly want, I can leave you be and report the attacks myself. I hadn't already only because I made the unfortunate assumption that you were handling it."

"You are _not_ going to report me."

Her smile grew. "Then it seems that we'll be spending the day together! Come, I believe I saw a patch of healthy grass beyond the lake. Have you your cloak? There's a chill in the air."

Draco looked up at Luna as she stood, her hand out and waiting for him. He had grown accustomed to her presence in the past several weeks, but never had they spent time together on the weekends, nor for any extended period of time. It was a daunting thought, to be in the company of another for hours at a time. Draco hadn't inflicted himself on anyone in so long, he wasn't sure he was up to it.

"Luna, I don't think-"

"I'm sure you don't sometimes," she said mildly. "But I hope you're not worried about being entertaining on my account. We needn't even talk if you'd prefer. I'd just like some company, Harry's request or not."

Draco tried to glare at her, hating Harry Potter. But he hadn't anything planned for the day anyway, and Draco found himself ten minutes later crouched over helping Luna Lovegood search for dandelions in the frosty grass.

"What do you even need dandelions for?" he asked as he searched half-heartedly. There was no way anything survived the recent draft that blew in.

"I'm in need of a new rosary."

Draco looked up, surprised. "You're religious?"

"Oh, no," she said, laughing lightly. "But my mother was, and having a rosary makes me feel as though she's closer."

"Oh."

"It's okay to ask questions." Luna looked up from her search and smiled at him. "Friends are allowed to ask questions."

Friends? Draco felt the coffee bubble in his stomach as fresh nausea washed over him. "We can't be friends," he said thickly, trying not to vomit.

"Now why not?"

"What? I..." He closed his eyes. "I kept you as a prisoner in my cellar, Luna. We can't be friends."

"Oh, Draco."

A small hand fell on his arm, and Draco opened his eyes to find Luna standing right beside him, a bright smile filling her face. His queasiness increased.

"There is a fine beauty in forgiveness, and I forgave you the moment I saw your face the first time you came down there."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"I suppose it doesn't. But forgiveness doesn't have to make sense. Sometimes it just...is." Her wide eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you feeling alright? You look as though you swallowed something foul."

"No, I don't feel alright," he said. "I can't...I can't stay here."

He pulled away from her and began to limp toward the castle, hating himself more than ever.

"Draco Malfoy, you stop right there."

She didn't raise her voice or even necessarily sound stern, but something in Luna's voice commanded him. Draco stopped walking and looked over his shoulder. She closed the gap and stood right in front of him, easily a whole head shorter than he but making him feel incredibly small. Draco's gaze fell.

"You might not see it, but you are worthy of forgiveness."

Draco gasped slightly as he suppressed an unexpected sob. "No. It's...it's not right. It's impossible."

Luna cleared her throat, and Draco raised his eyes to meet hers. She wasn't smiling anymore, but Draco somehow felt that smiling just part of who she was, how she carried herself. He could _feel_ her kindness.

"Nothing is impossible, you know," she said, and she nodded toward the ground at their feet. Draco looked down and gave a choking laugh.

It was a damned dandelion.

* * *

"I still can't see how you survive every lesson with Malfoy," Ron was saying as he, Harry, and Hermione descended into the dungeons.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, can't you tell that he's changed this year?"

"Not as loud, I'll give you, but I bet he's still the same spoiled, conniving piece of work he's always been."

"Even if he is, it's a new time. We're supposed to be moving past all that."

"What d'you mean, 'even if'?" Ron asked. "There's no way he's changed after all that Death Eater business."

"Harry?" Hermione stopped in front of the classroom door, blocking him and Ron from entering. "You talk to him, yes?"

"Yeah..."

She made an impatient sound. "Could you please tell Ronald over here that sometimes, people _can_ change, even if _he_ can't?"

"I too can change!" Ron started heatedly.

"He's really alright," Harry said, interrupting. Ron stop mid-tirade to stare at him.

"Malfoy?" he asked, doubtful. "Draco Malfoy, Death-Eater-at-sixteen Malfoy? Tried-to-kill-Dumbledore-himself Malfoy? 'Alright'?"

Harry shrugged. "He's been through a lot. Things change. To be honest, I don't think he ever really wanted to go as Dark as he did. I reckon that was more his dad."

Ron's mouth opened and closed a few times, eyes wide with disbelief, but Hermione looked thoughtful.

"That would explain a lot."

Ron rounded on her. "How can you honestly be listening to this?"

"Come on, Ron, you don't remember his face when we were caught by those Snatchers last year?"

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"Look," Harry said, cutting across Hermione as she opened her mouth to retort. "Let's not get into it here, okay? The lesson is about to start."

He reached past Hermione and opened the door, leading the way into the classroom. He broke away from Ron and Hermione, who had already struck up a whispered argument, and made his way over to his desk. Malfoy was already sitting there, reading a book. Seeing the Potions textbook lying on the desk closed, Harry leaned closer upon sitting, curious. It looked like a novel.

"I didn't know you liked to read."

For the first time that term, Malfoy didn't start at Harry's voice. Instead, he raised his head and faced Harry without prompting. Harry could have grinned at the progress but settled for studying the deep bags under Malfoy's pale eyes.

"I used to read a lot," Malfoy said after a second. "Now that I...uh...have more time, I thought I'd pick it back up."

"Cool. What're you reading now?"

"Why'd you tell Luna to follow me?"

Harry groaned. Of course Luna wouldn't have been discreet. "I didn't tell her to follow you. I asked her to check on you."

"Think I need checking up on?" In a strange way, Harry was glad to hear some of the old sneer in Malfoy's voice.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Slughorn chose that moment to begin the lesson.

"Morning, morning," he said. "We've been doing a lot of notes lately, hmm? I think it's time we did something a bit more practical, what do you all think?"

There was a general murmur of agreement. Slughorn grinned and disappeared into his office. He returned a moment later pushing three large cauldrons on a cart. Strange and strong smells filled the room, simultaneously singeing and caressing Harry's nose. He fought a sneeze.

"These are three very different poisons," Slughorn said. "Your assignment today is to identify the poison and the ingredient or ingredients that make it poisonous, as well as craft an antidote for each."

Harry's mouth fell open. No way that was possible in just two hours.

"And begin!"

At Slughorn's words, the class was in motion. Hermione was the first to the cauldrons, followed by the table of Ravenclaws, then the Hufflepuffs. Ron remained in his seat and shared a panicked look with Harry from across the room. There was no way two hours was enough time to not only figure out what the poisons were, but to concoct three separate antidotes correctly.

Malfoy, however, seemed relaxed.

"This is impossible," Harry said.

Malfoy shook his head. "Not if you know what you're doing."

"Okay, this is definitely impossible."

A strangled chuckle came from Malfoy's throat, causing both he and Harry to look at each other in mild alarm. Harry grinned, realizing the Malfoy actually tried to laugh at him, but Malfoy just frowned and made his way up to the cauldrons to collect a sample of each poison. When he returned, Harry had his textbook propped open to the chapter that outlined poisons.

"You ought to turn to the ingredients detail," Malfoy said, setting the vials up on the small burner kit Slughorn had passed out.

"Why not the poisons chapter?"

"Because we already know they're poisons, we don't need to identify if they're poisonous or not. What we need is to find out what ingredients catalyze together."

"Er...come again?"

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "All these years, I thought I was just being a prat calling you bad at Potions. Turns out, you actually have no idea what you're doing?"

"Er..."

"Nevermind. Here."

Malfoy leaned over, reaching for Harry's open textbook across the desk. His arm grazed Harry's, and their sides pressed together briefly as Malfoy pulled the book closer. Several layers of clothing separated them from truly touching, but Harry felt the contact as though seared. An odd whooping sensation befell his stomach, and he could only blink, frozen, as Malfoy searched the textbook with his side still against Harry's.

"Here we are," Malfoy said, dropping the book back onto the desk. He bent over, searching the text for something. "Catalysts are right here."

He pointed to a section on the page and straightened up to look at Harry.

"If you-" Malfoy cut off as his eyes met Harry's, barely a foot between them with their hips touching. Harry swallowed and saw Malfoy do the same before speaking again, his voice a half-octave lower. "If you can read through these, I'll test the poisons. When I find something that...that catalyzes, you can tell me what the poison's ingredient is."

"Right."

Neither one of them moved right away, but it was Malfoy who broke their contact first, stepping away to head toward the storage room. Harry watched him leave. For some reason, he was breathing heavier than usual.

"Oi, you alright?"

Harry started, but it was just Ron returning from the storeroom himself with an armload of ingredients.

"Yeah, just..." Harry trailed off, eyes drifting back over to where Malfoy had disappeared into the storeroom.

Ron scowled. "Malfoy giving you trouble?"

"What? No, nothing like that. Just wondering how the hell we're supposed to get all this done in one lesson."

"No bloody idea," Ron said, face relaxing. "I'm just glad I have Hermione to do all the...ah...I mean, to help me out."

Harry shove Ron good naturedly and moved to sit down as he walked away. He ought to read some of the catalysts, whatever those were.

When Malfoy returned, it only took them nearing three-quarters of an hour to find out what each poison was, much to Harry's shock. Malfoy had dropped in seemingly random ingredients to each vial and waited for it to react or not, then Harry used the textbook to find out what each test ingredient was paired with as a catalyst. After finding the key ingredient for each vial, it took Malfoy mere minutes to find and write out the poisons names, clearly and carefully labeling the vials.

"Right, so now we just have to make the antidotes."

Harry looked down at the vials. Prohibis Spiritum, Baneberry, and Blood-duct. "Alright, easy enough, right?"

Malfoy nodded. "Easy enough. You work on Baneberry, it's the simplest."

"Trying to say something, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a smirk.

Malfoy eyed him. His lips twitched. "Just that your record doesn't leave me wanting you to brew up an antidote for me anytime soon."

Harry chuckled and turned to his start his antidote. He found the recipe and saw that Malfoy was right - it was almost comically simple. Just a powderized bezoar boiled in oak sap and moss oil. He turned to see the recipes for Prohibis Spiritum and Blood-duct. They were equally as simple, if requiring a few more ingredients and steps. With a glance at the clock, Harry had to admit that it made sense. Just over an hour remained. Slughorn wouldn't have actually assigned something impossible.

They worked in silence for some time before Harry spoke.

"I don't think you need looking after," he said. He saw Malfoy stiffen slightly but otherwise continue as though Harry hadn't spoken. "In truth, it's because I _know_ you don't need looking after that I asked Luna to check on you."

A hiss came from Malfoy's lips, and Harry turned to find Malfoy squeezing his left hand. A few blood drops sat on the table next to his discarded knife.

Without thinking on it, Harry grabbed Malfoy's hands. They were shaking. Harry pulled the hands closer and gently pried Malfoy's right hand away. Blood lined the palm.

The cut was along all four of Malfoy's fingers, slicing downward but hardly deep. Harry sighed with relief. He could fix this. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the wounds.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked through his teeth, though he didn't pull his hand away.

" _Episkey_." The four cuts instantly sealed, cutting off the lazy flow of blood that had begun to fill Malfoy's hand. Harry began siphoning the blood away then, lifting his eyes to meet Malfoy's. "While I was away last year, this came in handy."

Malfoy stood still, hand cradled in Harry's, as the blood was removed. The shaking didn't stop as Harry dropped Malfoy's left hand and moved onto the right one to continue Vanishing the blood. When he had cleared it all away, Harry didn't let go and kept his eyes trained on their hands.

"Things change, Malfoy," he said quietly, remembering Hermione's words from earlier. "And I'm sick of seeing so much pain. You didn't ask for everything that happened to you, and you shouldn't have to pay for it."

Harry sighed and looked up, and he was surprised to find Malfoy's pale eyes looking directly at him, wide and confused. He swallowed and made to pull his hand back, but Harry held firm.

"I'm serious."

Malfoy closed his eyes as he turned away, and Harry let him go. "I know you are," he whispered.

Time seemed to crawl by as the class brewed their antidotes. With ten minutes remaining, Slughorn swept the room, inspecting their work and giving out marks. When the bell rang, Malfoy cleared his throat, calling Harry's attention.

"I...I appreciate the sentiment," Malfoy said. "Even if it is unjustified and foolhardy."

"You could just say 'thank you' and not let it keep happening."

Malfoy smiled sadly. "Maybe."

It wasn't a 'yes,' but Harry felt triumph thunder in his chest. It was a good start.


	7. Chapter 7

It was the day before Halloween, and Draco was just as relieved as every other student that lessons were finally over for the week. It had been a long week, and as he made his way down to the Slytherin common room, Draco even debated attending dinner. He hadn't been for food since the previous day at lunch and he knew he would want to avoid most of the castle the following day when the festivities of the holiday were in full swing.

He ought to eat, Draco thought as he descended the stairs toward the enchanted wall that would lead to the common room. Despite dinner being the busiest meal of the day, it had already been nearly half an hour since it began and would likely be thinning out by the time Draco actually arrived. He tossed his bag on his bed and made his way back upstairs.

Heads swiveled and whispers erupted when Draco walked into the Great Hall some ten minutes later, after making sure he took his time coming up from the dungeons. It wasn't unexpected, but Draco still felt the familiar trickle of unease as he searched for a seat far out of the way. He dropped into an empty seat that had plenty of space on all sides. Relieved to have sound relative solitude, he began adding bits of stew to his bowl. He grabbed a roll and took a small spoonful of stewed beef into his mouth, stomach rumbling appreciatively.

"You know, you never asked my name."

Draco glanced over at the little girl that had appeared at his side. It was the tiny first year he had spoken to at the Welcoming Feast. Since his encounter with her brother, Draco had avoided her as best he could.

"Uh..."

"Well, it's Karen," she said with a smile. It fell slightly, though, as she asked, "How come you haven't spoken to me since that first night? I've wave to you in the halls and I try to talk to you in the common room when you're actually there..."

Draco's gaze flickered over to the Gryffindor table, quickly finding Karen's brother and his friends. Thankfully, they hadn't seemed to notice that the little girl was at Draco's side.

"Did Josh say something to you?" Karen asked, her eyes following Draco's.

To avoid answering, he took another bite of stew.

"He's a hotheaded git, my brother, but he's really a good guy," Karen said. "But I'm not a baby anymore. I can make friends with whoever I want."

Swallowing, Draco said, "You don't want to be my friend."

"And why not?"

"Look, if you knew anything about me, you wouldn't be sitting next to me, let alone talking to me."

"Well that's rather pretentious of you, don't you think?" Karen huffed.

Draco chuckled softly at the little girl. "You're brave enough to be a Gryffindor."

Her face fell, and Draco felt a sharp pang of guilt at the sight.

"My entire family's been in Gryffindor," she said quietly. "I'm the first Slytherin in...well, I think forever."

It wasn't unheard of, but having an odd-House-out in a family was a bit unusual. But Draco didn't think that was what Karen really needed to hear.

"Your brother hardly seems bothered by it," he said instead.

"No, but he's been trying to keep me from making any friends in Slytherin, trying to set me up with first years in his own House." She sighed. "They're alright, but I know what they think of me...besides, I don't think Slytherins are nearly as bad as Josh has always told me. I like the kids in our House."

"Well, Slytherins and Gryffindors aren't terribly different when it comes down to it."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I've always heard." Draco shrugged. "We're both ruthless and seek a certain kind of justice. Our methods are just a bit different."

"What do you mean?"

Draco felt eyes on him and looked up to find Josh glaring daggers at him from across the Hall.

"I don't know," he mumbled, looking down at his bowl. Suddenly, he didn't feel terribly hungry anymore. He pushed his bowl away and stood.

"Wait!" Karen reached out and grabbed a fistful of his robes. "Can't we be friends? Please?"

Her eyes were green, much like Potter's. But Karen's eyes held more innocence than he was sure he or Potter had ever possessed. He shook his head, feeling more and more like a monster.

"I'm not coming between you and your brother."

"He doesn't run my life," Karen insisted stubbornly, not releasing him.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Are you just seeking my friendship because he told you not to?"

Karen's deep blush answered for her. A laugh bubbled up in Draco's chest, though it came out more like a dry gargle. She let go of him, arms crossing indignantly.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. "I'm not laughing at you, I just...you remind me of someone."

Karen's shoulders relaxed marginally, but her arms stayed crossed. "So can we be friends or not?"

"Maybe."

Her smile was worth the lie, though Draco only felt a little guilty as he walked out of the Great Hall. Karen was far sweeter than he was sure he had ever been, but something about that forceful need for acceptance reminded Draco fiercely of what he had once been, just an entitled 11-year-old looking for friends.

His feet took him back toward the common room. As he dropped a floor, an empty path met him. It was Friday and the day before Halloween; most of the castle would be out and about until curfew. The emptiness was nice, and Draco let out a sigh as he walked.

"Hey, Malfoy!"

Cold dread slammed into Draco's stomach, sloshing the little bit of stew that sat there. He knew that voice.

"I'm talking to you, you bastard!" Josh hollered.

Draco turned and found himself being surrounded by Josh and his three friends, the scene all too familiar as Josh drew his wand.

"I thought I had made it pretty clear that you leave my sister alone. Didn't you learn your lesson the first time?"

Draco didn't move but to bow his head as he always had so far when cornered for these kinds of encounters.

" _Sectumpaulo_!"

As though slapped, Draco was shoved back as his cheek was forcefully scratched. It didn't feel particularly deep, but Draco fought not to shake as the cut began to sting.

"Shit, Josh," one of the other boys said, sounding uncertain. "Don't cut up his face where people can see."

Josh laughed. "Come on, Conrad, you think it matters? This piece of dung isn't going to tell anyone, just like he hasn't all year. Why do you think people keep finding him?"

"Yeah, for like a jinx or something, not this," Conrad said. "This isn't right, mate. It's going to cause questions."

"Please, no one cares enough about him to ask questions. Do they, Malfoy? _Sectumpaulo_!" Josh's wand swiped between them, and Draco couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips when his robes were ripped at the chest, exposing his flesh enough to form another scratch.

Josh's foot slammed into the spot he just cut open, knocking Draco against the wall with a loud thud. Draco was definitely shaking now, though he fought desperately to keep his breathing under control as his legs gave out from under him and he fell to his knees.

"I've been wondering," Josh asked, voice right above Draco. "How'd you manage to stay out of Azkaban? More Dark Magic? Nah, that can't be right. If I remember anything from last year, it was how much of a piss poor wizard you are. Couldn't even properly carry out your own Dark spells." He barked out a single laugh. Draco forced himself to look up. "You may not remember me, but I remember you. The Carrows were having all the _faithful_ students practice the Cruciatus Curse on us _rebels_. You remember that? You came into my Dark Arts class. You were supposed to show us how, remember?"

Draco would have given anything not to remember.

"The Carrows pulled Jasmine Frothguard out of her desk and had her be your puppet. Your _example_. But you kept messing it up, probably on purpose."

Jasmine had been a chubby Hufflepuff that the Carrows had chosen because they didn't think she'd invoke a lot of pity. She had been selected to be made an example of, and Draco had been selected to carry out that example. Her eyes had pleaded with Draco and he hadn't been able to perform the Curse properly, causing Jasmine short spurts of pinching pain rather than the torture that the Carrows had wanted.

"So they kept having you do it, over and over again, but when they eventually gave up on you, it was so much worse for her." Pure hate laced Josh's words, and Draco accepted every syllable of it. "They tortured her in front of us for nearly five minutes, never letting up. You remember her screams?"

Her screams filled Draco's mind every night.

"I said, do you remember her screams?" Josh shouted, kicking Draco hard in the stomach.

Draco saw a few droplets of blood from the scratch on his chest fall to the ground. The pain demanded he remain doubled over, but he forced himself to look back up at Josh to see all the hatred there.

"You should've died behind bars like your worthless father."

All Draco could do was nod. He really should have.

But it wasn't the response Josh apparently wanted, and his nostrils flared as his eyes grew murderous. He thrust his wand directly in Draco's face.

" _Bombarda Minima_!"

Intense pain erupted in Draco's skull, and then the world disappeared.

* * *

Luna's hand held Harry's tight as she led the way down toward the dungeons, down toward the Slytherin common room.

"Come on," she urged. "They can't have made it too far, we're only just behind them."

Luna had rushed to the Gryffindor table at dinner, dragging Harry out of his seat as she told him that she was certain a group of sixth years had made to follow Malfoy. She was sure that they were the same boys that attacked Malfoy in the first week, though she hadn't any proof. Harry had immediately let her lead him out of the Great Hall.

"What's going on?" Ron, who was following with Hermione and Neville, asked as they descended another staircase. "Why're we worried about Malfoy? He's a big boy, I bet you-"

A thunderous sound exploded ahead of them, somewhere around the corner.

Harry broke into a run.

He headed the way round the corner and found four Gryffindor sixth years that he recognized as Josh Gregory, Conrad Oswald, Maddox Smith, and Cooper Fretzel. They stood in a semi-circle, wands drawn and eyes widened in shock. There was an unconscious heap near the wall that Harry recognized as Malfoy.

Rushing over, Harry didn't even think. He lunged forward and punched Josh, who stood nearest Malfoy, directly in the face. The younger boy stumbled back several steps but didn't otherwise react.

"What the hell did you do?" Harry roared, his voice echoing.

Josh's eyes were wide and vacant, as though not really seeing Harry. "I was just trying to keep my little sister safe," he said blankly.

Harry dropped to his knees and collected Malfoy in his arms. Panic flared in his chest as he looked the blond over and saw that his very scalp was deeply bruised. It seemed to be creeping down the rest of Malfoy's face rapidly, reaching his brows even in the few seconds that Harry watched him.

"So you attacked him?" Hermione shouted somewhere behind him.

Luna dropped beside Harry as one of the sixth years mumbled an answer. Her already wide eyes seemed to grow even wider upon seeing Malfoy's face.

"He needs the hospital wing right away, Harry."

"Right, right," Harry said distractedly, watching as Malfoy's eyes began to purple. "Ron? Ron! Go fetch Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall. Hurry!"

He heard footsteps running down the corridor. Harry's hand search Malfoy's chest, finding torn fabric and a long scratch across a sunken-in and pale chest. Hand quivering slightly, Harry reached into the fabric and pressed his hand to the chest in search of a heartbeat. It took only seconds, but he found one, faint though steady. He sighed, and Luna stood up to turn her attention to the sixth years.

"This isn't your first time attacking Draco, is it?" she asked pointedly.

"...no."

"You've got to be joking," Neville said.

"What, you four just took it upon yourselves to corner someone alone after dinner?" Hermione asked. "You're all a bunch of cowards! What has he done to you this year?"

"This year?" Josh sputtered. "He...you weren't here last year, you have no idea what he'd done!"

"I think I have a better idea than you think," she replied coolly.

"I was here, too, Josh," Neville said. "You don't think I remember? But you know what I remember? That he sucked at what the Carrows had him do! He didn't want to do it anymore than any of us would've!"

"Yeah, but he still did!"

"You're acting like a child," Luna said, her voice strikingly calm amidst the chaos of the scene. "Draco wouldn't be here if the Ministry believed for even a second that he deserved to be elsewhere. His punishments, or lack thereof, are absolutely not yours for the taking."

There was a pause.

"Whatever," Josh said after a moment. "We don't have to take this."

"Oh, no you don't!" Hermione cried, and Harry looked up to see Hermione, Neville, and Luna all had turned their wands on the sixth years, faces set. They were technically outnumbered, but the older students had a reputation that easily tipped the scales. Josh and his friends froze, eyeing the wands warily.

"Come on," Josh pleaded weakly after a moment. "He's not...he's not dead, right? He'll be fine."

"Not the point," Hermione said through clenched teeth.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, unable to hold back another moment. She turned and looked at him. "Is...is there anything you can do? I don't know how long Ron's going to be."

With a last glare at Josh, Hermione stepped over and crouched down beside Harry. Her mouth fell open at Malfoy's face. Every bit of skin from his scalp to the base of his neck was covered in a deep purple and black bruise.

"Oh, Merlin," she gasped softly. "I...I wouldn't even know where to begin, Harry...I...I just don't know how to help, especially since we don't know what caused it."

In one fluid motion, Harry pulled his hand from Malfoy's chest, extracted his own wand, and pointed it directly at Josh. Though there were several feet separating them, Josh flinched considerably and stepped to the side. Harry kept his wand trained on him.

"What did you do." It wasn't a question.

Josh audibly gulped, and he looked to his friends for support, but they all looked at the floor instead. It was only then when Josh answered.

"I, uh...used a minor cutting spell on his face and front...just...just to make sure he was listening. He wasn't saying anything."

"Okay, so slicing him up for not answering you, that makes sense," Neville said, dark sarcasm in his voice.

"What happened to his _head_ ," Harry clarified.

Conrad spoke up then, voice no more than a whisper. "He...he used _bombarda minima_."

Hermione and Luna gasped.

Neville swore. "You used an Explosion Spell on a _person_? What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I meant to hit the wall behind him," Josh said, pleading. "I just wanted to scare him, but I missed. I was just so angry...I didn't mean...I just didn't aim it properly...it was...it was an accident."

"An accident," Hermione repeated in disbelief, voice unusually high. "You never should have used such a spell anywhere near him, anywhere near any person! Especially not in some four-on-one..." she stuttered, looking for the word. "...street brawl!"

Josh muttered something, but Harry had returned his hand and his attention back to Malfoy, letting the steady heartbeat calm some of his mounting panic. An Explosion Spell directly to the head couldn't be good. But Madam Promfrey could fix him, Harry thought, and his hand began to nervously rub Malfoy's chest. She had to.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco was floating in darkness. He was pretty sure he was dead. But if he were dead, surely he wouldn't be able to think that he was dead, right? But think he could, and Draco could only think about how far the mighty had fallen, where Draco Malfoy was regularly taunted, jinxed, and hexed in the corridors and occasionally cornered and all-out attacked unless he was accompanied by none other than Luna Lovegood.

He became aware of the softness of a warm bed beneath him, though he couldn't remember the walk to his dormitory. He must have stumbled his way back after Josh and his friends had their fun.

The world spun very slowly as Draco became more aware of the bed and the blankets that wrapped around him, and it was then that he realized his robes had been removed. He laid there in what felt like pajamas of some sort, which was a little odd. He must have been overwhelmed enough to think that he'd sleep long enough to warrant a full change of clothes.

But as nausea began to take hold of him, the world spinning faster, Draco could hear sounds that definitely did not belong in his quiet and very private dormitory. The sounds came more into focus, the vague booming turning into approaching footfalls, gentle rumbles becoming soft voices. Everything sounded too loud, and Draco's nausea increased.

He groaned.

"Malfoy?"

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It sounded terribly far away, yet as though filtering into his consciousness directly at his ear at the same time.

"Malfoy?" The voice said again. "You awake?"

Draco still couldn't place the voice, and it only hurt his head even more when he tried. He groaned again.

"W'sss 'appen'd?" Draco's question barely passed as actual words. Even to himself, it sounded as though he were speaking Troll.

But the voice seemed to understand. "You're in the hospital wing. I don't know if you remember, Madam Pomfrey said you might not, but...you were attacked. You're skull's all messed up from a badly performed spell."

A moan slid past Draco's lips. Attacked? He didn't think Josh and his friends had actually done more than scratch him up a bit. But if the voice was right and his skull was injured, it'd make sense that he couldn't remember. The world suddenly tilted violently to the left in addition to the spinning, and a fresh wave of nausea kept Draco from thinking more.

"You're actually pretty lucky, according to Madam Pomfrey," the voice continued. Draco's head throbbed. "Your skull kept your brain from most of the damage."

A cold hand gripped Draco's then, and he tried to open his eyes. Blinding light assaulted him, intensifying all the worst sensations he had been experiencing since finding consciousness. His whimpered involuntarily, eyes falling closed again.

"She said you'd be sensitive to light...but don't worry about opening your eyes now. The sun's about to go down anyway, then you won't have to worry about it."

Draco felt lost. He was pretty sure that they sun had already set, hadn't it?

"You're missing the Feast, but I reckon you weren't planning on going anyway, right?"

He couldn't remember. Had he planned on skipping the Feast? Unconsciousness was creeping upon him, and he struggled against it, wanting to pick up the pieces that were apparently scattered all around him. Someone familiar was by his side, speaking softly to him with their hand over his, and he was desperate to know anything.

But he was weak, and the unconsciousness won.

When Draco woke next, the world was properly still. He kept his eyes closed for a few moments, not wanting to relive the pain that opening them had brought him before, but curiosity got the better of him. Carefully, he cracked a single eye but found that it was dark enough to be safe. He opened his eyes and looked around.

He was lying alone in the hospital wing, darkness filling the windows and lanterns. His head ached though the nausea had subsided. He breathed a deep sigh, wondering what time it was.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

He was careful not to turn his head too quick at Madam Pomfrey's voice. She was peeking out of her quarters wearing her nightdress and robe, looking tired. But upon seeing her patient awake, she strode into the wing with a smile.

"I thought I heard you stirring," she said as she drew closer. She produced her wand and ran the tip gently over Draco's head, inspecting him. "You were incredibly lucky, Mr. Malfoy, incredibly lucky. Mr. Gregory either hasn't yet mastered that particular spell or his heart wasn't in it, but either way, the spell wasn't as strong as it ought to have been. Even the Minor Explosion Spell should have shattered your skull and sliced apart your brain, but it seems to have only caused you an incredibly severe concussion."

She straightened, seemingly satisfied with his head.

"Now that the swelling has gone down, you ought to feel right as rain in a couple hours' time. I took care of the cuts and the bruising for you." She tutted. "No boy should be as bruised as you were. But it's gone now, save for maybe some soreness without color. But that, too, should be gone in a few hours. I'm happy to keep you longer if you'd like, but should you wish, you can return to your lessons on Monday."

"What day is it?" Draco asked, confused.

"It's nearly midnight now, almost Sunday," she answered. At his silence, she bent over the table at his bedside and busied herself with a potion and glass. "You should rest, Mr. Malfoy. It's the only thing that can help you finish recovering at this point. I have a Calming Draught here. Concussions can cause rampant emotions that I don't need you indulging while your brain heals."

She offered him the glass, and though Draco took it, he didn't drink.

"How..." He cleared his throat. "How did I end up in the hospital wing? I don't remember what happened, how I got here."

Madam Pomfrey eyed him sadly. "Mr. Potter and his friends found you in the corridor adjacent your common room. You had been attacked by another group of students. But thankfully, Mr. Weasley contacted myself and the headmistress as fast as he did, and you were able to be tended to and those half-wits could be dealt with proper by McGonagall." She pursed her lips, suddenly looking severe. "Does this sort of encounter happen often, Mr. Malfoy?"

"No, ma'am," he said quickly.

Madam Pomfrey looked as though she would have liked to say something, but she sighed after a moment and seemed to choose a different route. "Well, either way. The headmistress has handled the students responsible and made an announcement to the student body to deter any further situations like this in the future."

An internal scream filled Draco's lungs. If McGonagall had made some kind of announcement to the whole school...well, if he didn't have a huge target on his forehead before, he certainly did now.

Madam Pomfrey gave Draco a gentle pat on his arm. "Don't worry, deary. Things are going to be alright." When he failed to respond, she tapped his untouched potion. "But these are precisely the emotions you need a relief from to heal. Now drink, then sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

Though Draco drank his potion without further comment, he deeply doubted the matron's hopeful words.

* * *

Exhaustion met Harry when he woke early Sunday morning. The sun had barely breached the horizon, and he knew that, though breakfast was likely ready to be served, the hospital wing wouldn't be prepared for visitors yet. He yawned and rubbed his face, then dressed sluggishly.

He had spent all of Friday night and the entirety of Saturday at Malfoy's side in the hospital wing, watching anxiously as the bruising gradually faded from his face. Madam Pomfrey had been uncharacteristically patient with Harry's vigil, but when she had found Harry slumped over in his chair as the sun set Saturday evening, she had kicked him from the wing and insisted that he catch some sleep in his own dormitory.

But it hadn't done Harry much good, it seemed. He yawned again and stretched by his bed, not bothering to wake Ron as he made his way to the common room. Harry had hardy slept three hours, tossing in his bed as he swayed from worrying about Malfoy to seething about Josh and his friends.

McGonagall had been nearly beyond words when she, Ron, and Madam Pomfrey had arrived in the corridor. She had ordered Josh, Conrad, Maddox, and Cooper to her office, telling them that she would deal with them later, before tending to Malfoy with Madam Pomfrey. It was only over twenty-four hours later, when Harry was stumbling out of the hospital wing, that he saw her again and thought to ask what had come of the sixth years.

It hadn't felt at all like justice.

After seeing that Malfoy was going to be alright, McGonagall had spoken with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Luna. Between their accounts and what the sixth years had told her themselves, McGonagall had initially given Conrad, Maddox, and Cooper a week's worth of detentions for being weak-willed bystanders. But the boys then had willingly confessed to a confrontation earlier in the year when they had held Malfoy down and apparently burned him repeatedly, so their detentions extended to a month and they had lost all their Hogsmeade privileges for the year.

Harry closed his eyes briefly as he descended to the entrance hall, horrified at the thought of what the boys had done. Harry had seen some strange marks all over Malfoy's arms when he had helped Madam Pomfrey change him, but at the time Harry hadn't given them much thought.

Harry had been most disturbed by Josh's punishment after everything. He had admitted to instigating the first attack and took full responsibility for the second, and yet McGonagall hadn't expelled him as Harry had viciously hoped. But when the headmistress had told Harry that Josh also lost all his Hogsmeade privileges for the year, along with a month's worth of detentions followed by weekly detentions until the end of the year, Harry had felt his hackles fall. It was almost exactly what his own punishment had been after he himself had attacked Malfoy two years previous.

As he entered the Great Hall, Harry grimaced at the memory. He, too, had just been an emotional teenager with harsh prejudices, and he, too, had nearly killed Malfoy because of it. Malfoy's bleeding body still popped up in Harry's nightmares from time to time, and it filled his head now as he made to butter some toast. Halfway through, however, Harry lost his appetite and set the toast down, reaching instead for a cup of coffee. He shivered at the heat in his hands.

Somewhere in the past several weeks, Malfoy had become someone worth worrying over for Harry. He had become someone that cause such strong emotions that Harry had nearly sent his own curse at Malfoy's attacker that evening. It was unexpected, these surging feelings, but Harry found that he wasn't averse to the idea. It did, however, raise several questions that he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. But Harry had long ago learned to take things as they came, be what they may, and he was not going to overthink whatever was happening between him and Malfoy.

"How'd you sleep?"

Hermione sat down in the empty seat beside Harry, eyeing him worriedly as she reached to finish buttering the toast he had abandoned.

Harry shrugged. "Not bad. Could've been better, I suppose."

"I expected as much."

"Really?"

"Well, Ron would have been asleep for a week after being up all night and two days," she said, tipping some eggs onto Harry's plate alongside the toast. "But you've always been different when it comes to stress and sleep."

"Right." He looked at the plate she was making for him. "I'm not really hungry, but thank you."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not asking. Eat something. You haven't eaten in nearly two days. Now get to it, go on."

Sighing, Harry looked down at the eggs, toast, and bacon that she had piled onto his plate. His stomach churned at the sight, but he knew Hermione was right. He began to pick at the eggs.

"How's Malfoy?" she asked gently after a few moments. "Have you seen him today?"

Harry shook his head. The eggs felt rubbery in his mouth. "Haven't seen him since Pomfrey kicked me out last night. But he looked a lot better. The bruising and swelling was gone, at least."

"That's a relief."

"Mmhm."

"He really has changed, hasn't he?"

Harry raised his brows. "We all have."

"Well, it wasn't as if I expected Malfoy to be parading around, calling us all mudbloods and blood traitors again. I mean, the Ministry obviously had their reasons for allowing him to return to Hogwarts-" Harry's chest tightened slightly and he looked away. "-but if what those sixth years said was all true, Malfoy's let himself be a punching bag all year. Doesn't lift a finger to defend himself, doesn't call out, doesn't tell the teachers, almost as if-"

"He thinks he deserves it," Harry said.

Hermione fixed him with a bemused look. "Right. You sound awfully certain."

"I've talked with him."

"Oh, I didn't realize he had woken up-"

"Not in the hospital wing. Before all this." Harry sighed and set down his fork, giving up on the eggs that sat like stones in his stomach. "I went for a walk after hours one night and found Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower. We talked. He thinks he deserves to be attacked regularly."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "That's just awful."

They sat there in silence, neither eating in favor of their coffees. As the sun rose higher, filling the Hall with light and livelier students, Harry wondered if Malfoy was awake yet. He stood abruptly when Ron wandered through the doors.

"Harry," Hermione grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She opened her mouth a couple times as though wanting to tell him something, but she eventually seemed to give up, releasing his hand and simply nodding toward the door. He left.

"Morning, mate," Ron yawned as Harry approached him.

"Morning."

"Where're you off to so early?"

"Hospital wing."

Ron frowned. "Again?"

"Yes."

Something in Harry's eyes must have deterred whatever question Ron had been about to ask, for he simply shrugged and said, "Alright. See you, then."

As Harry climbed the stairs to the hospital wing, his stomach continued to churn. It was a peculiar feeling, as though he were standing on the edge of something big and unknown, something equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. But Harry stood at the edge, teetering, unsure if he was ready leap in feet first.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was fussing. Draco had been awake for nearly two hours. He had eaten everything on the tray she had brought him, drank every drop of the potion she gave him, answered every question she had asked him, and performed every strange task she had requested. He had felt particularly foolish when she had asked him to hop on one foot, but Draco had done it. Anything to be released to the privacy of his own room.

But now, nearing eight in the morning, Draco was sitting, fully dressed, at the end of the hospital bed and growing impatient with Madam Pomfrey's fussing. She had waved her wand across his forehead multiple times and checked various reflexes at least three times each, and it seemed that the matron was now just looking for reasons to keep him there.

"I'm feeling perfectly fine," he said after a couple more minutes of it. "Really. May I go now?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed as she looked down on him. "Oh, dear. I just don't feel right, letting you leave on your own. Especially considering the circumstance of your injuries. I had really hoped-"

The hospital wing door opened just then, and Madam Pomfrey turned to see who had entered. Draco peered around her.

Potter.

"Oh, Mr. Potter, what excellent timing!" Madam Pomfrey cooed. "Come in, come in, I just about to discharge Mr. Malfoy here. I'd like you to see him to his common room, please."

Hot embarrassment seared Draco's stomach. He didn't need an escort.

"It's really not-" he began.

"Of course." Potter gave the matron a smile, then looked over at Draco. Potter's smile stayed in place, and the sight made Draco feel vaguely nauseous. "Ready, then?"

Draco nodded and glared at the ground as he rose from the bed.

"Thank you," he murmured to Madam Pomfrey as he passed her by.

She patted his shoulder. "Not to worry, Mr. Malfoy. I'll be here if anything else is to happen, though I'd frankly rather you not need it."

Potter chuckled and Madam Pomfrey shooed both boys out, latch clicking as the door swung shut behind them. The castle felt unusually quiet.

Without speaking, Draco turned from Potter and made his way toward the Slytherin common room, though he could feel Potter's presence at his side and a half-step behind him the entire way. Draco took a roundabout route that avoided the busier corridors, but if Potter took notice, he said nothing. It wasn't until the pair was descending the final staircase that Potter finally broke the silence.

"So...feeling better?"

"I doubt Madam Pomfrey would have released me if I wasn't."

"Right...I was just trying to make conversation."

"And why would you do that?"

Potter sighed, and Draco glanced over despite himself. Potter looked...sad. Strange.

"I don't want there to be this tension anymore, Malfoy. Can't we just be...I don't know...friends?"

Something akin to nausea swelled in Draco's middle, but his annoyance flared over it.

"Friends?" he asked, spinning around to face Potter. "Friends? Friends don't sick others to keep watch of them."

Potter's jaw clenched as his cheeks flushed. "You're talking about Luna? Without asking Luna to keep an eye on you, you probably would have been attacked more than you already have!"

"No one gave you the right!" Draco shouted. His anger was growing rapidly, distantly surprising him. "You have no right to worry over me and sick your fanclub after me!"

"I didn't sick anyone on you, you git!" Only a few feet separated them, but Potter took a step closer as his voice rose to match Draco's. "And whether you like it or not, I do worry! And it's a damn good thing I did, too, or else you would've died on the floor Friday!"

"You should have let me!"

It was out of his mouth before he could think better of it, and Draco silently gasped the second he said it. Potter's eyes grew impossibly wide and his mouth fell open slightly.

"Malfoy-"

"Just leave me alone, Potter," Draco said, trying to sound as scathing as possible. But even he could hear how downright terrified he sounded. His chest was constricting, and Draco suddenly felt like he couldn't get enough air. He gasped a little for breath, and Potter took another step forward, arm coming up.

Draco turned and ran.

"Malfoy!"

But Draco ignored Potter's call and sprinted down the corridor and around the corner, desperate to vanish into the safety of his room. Only one more corridor, one more turn separated Draco from freedom when he was grabbed roughly by his upper arm and spun around mid-step. The momentum sent him stumbling to the side, dragging the arm that held him along for the ride. When Draco gently bumped into the wall, he could only barely focus on Potter's face as his vision was beginning to cloud from his haggard breathing.

For several seconds they simply stood there, Draco gasping for air and shaking pathetically against the corridor wall. Potter's hand remained on Draco's arm, holding him firm without being too tight.

"What's wrong?" Potter asked. "You're...you're not breathing right."

Panic was mounting in Draco's chest, every instinct screaming for him to run, to bury himself in the darkness of his bed and never resurface. Nothing could save him from suffocating but the sanctuary of his room. Lightheadedness was fast approaching, and Draco bowed his head as he pressed his back against the wall for support.

Another hand gripped Draco's free arm, guiding him to sit down. The panic subsided ever so slightly, like the tide pulling out for a momentary lapse, and Draco lifted his eyes to Potter's.

Potter was crouched down in front of him, hands on Draco's arms and eyes looking more alarmed than Draco could ever recall them being. Very suddenly, Draco found his shaking doubling as he gasped again for air in the silence between them.

"Shit," Potter said. "Shit, I didn't...I didn't mean to do this...I didn't..."

The tide of panic began to return. Draco struggled to take a breath that could abate it.

"Here." Potter moved his right hand from Draco's arm and settled it directly over Draco's heart. Shushing quietly, Potter pressed his hand there, giving Draco's chest a gentle pressure that made Draco realize that his heart was racing impossibly fast. He was going to have a heart attack.

"Stop, stop." Potter's voice was hardly above a whisper and incredibly calm, a clash against the swirling vortex of terror that was Draco's entire world. Potter's other hand came to Draco's chest, adding more pressure there, and strangely...there was some relief.

"Focus," Potter whispered. "Focus on taking a deep breath. Breathe in, hold it a moment, then breathe out."

With the little relief that the pressure on his chest was allowing, Draco found that he was able to do as Potter asked. At least technically. His inhale was choppy and weak, and it hurt his lungs to hold the air there for the few seconds that he did. But upon exhaling, some of the clouds surrounding his vision cleared.

"There you go...try another one."

The second inhale was smoother, holding it less painful, its exhale clearing more of the clouds away. Draco continued to breathe, his shaking dying as his heartbeat slowed and the torrent of panic seemed to slip away.

Draco hadn't a clue how long they sat there, he and Potter. Time didn't behave when Draco had these episodes. But as no other student passed by in the time it took him to finally calm down, Draco could only assume that less time had passed then he thought.

Breathing normally again, Draco felt as though crawling out of a well that had tried its damnedest to drown him. Exhaustion smacked him all at once. His shoulders slumped and his body tilted forward a few inches only to be caught by the hands still pressed to his chest.

"You alright?"

Draco had almost forgotten that it was Potter who crouched there, Potter's hands that kept him from falling face-first into the floor. Potter's hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, holding him steady. Oddly enough, it wasn't as repulsive of a touch as he would have thought.

"Yeah," Draco replied hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, just..."

"Tired, I reckon."

Draco nodded, his head still hanging down. Now that his world had returned to normal, hot shame filled his belly. Nothing had happened to cause such a reaction. Nothing ever happened to truly cause these episodes that sprinkled over his past several months, but never before had Draco a witness.

"I, er, I used to have similar...troubles. Right after the war."

Draco lifted his head to look at Potter. There was no way the Chosen One suffered the same ailment as Draco. Not something as irrational as this.

Potter cleared his throat. "They've gone now, but it used to happen a lot. Hermione noticed and said they're called panic attacks. She'd have to explain what they are exactly, but she...she gave me some tips to help...move them along." He swallowed. "I...er...did it help?"

All Draco could do was nod.

A small smile took over Potter's somber expression, and the last of the tightness in Draco's chest fell away.

"Can you stand?"

Draco nodded again. Potter's hands moved to Draco's underarms, helping him to his feet. Draco swayed slightly when he stood, but an arm snaked around his waist to hold him steady. Potter grabbed Draco's arm that hung between them and swung it up over his head and around his shoulder. The hand on Draco's waist gently pulled them closer, pressing their sides together, as Potter began to lead them down the corridor.

Again, Draco was surprised at how much the touch didn't disgust him.


	9. Chapter 9

A little over a week later on Monday, the first snow of the year began to fall as October truly became November. It was evening, and Harry sprawled out on the floor of the Gryffindor common room alongside Ron, their homework spread out around them. Hermione sat in a nearby armchair, nose in her Arithmancy textbook as she had already completed the Defense Against the Dark Arts essay that was keeping Harry and Ron busy. It had seemed relatively simple at first, just to identify and describe the six main types of dragons, focusing on the strengths and weaknesses of each that would be most pertinent to someone encountering one in the wild.

Well, it had sounded simple.

Now Harry was hours into deep research, and most of his nearly-complete essay was just fabricated facts that he had been too impatient to properly find in the library books. At least Ron's was just as horrible, Harry thought as his eyes strayed from his parchment and to the nearby fireplace.

Even though it had been years, Harry still wished Sirius's head would pop out of the flames. Maybe Sirius could tell him that he was being totally mental for wanting to be Malfoy's friend and talk some sense into him, like Ron had been trying to do since the start of term. It'd be like Sirius to do so, Harry thought as he remembered the bitterness in his godfather's voice when he talked to or about Snape, his equivalent to what Malfoy had always been to Harry. The memory made his heart sink slightly.

Lupin would have encouraged the friendship, though. Lupin had the same history with Snape but had made the effort to look past old differences. It had taken him well into adulthood, sure, but Lupin would have understood. Harry was certain of that.

Neither Harry nor Malfoy had mentioned the walk from the hospital wing. Harry had, however, taken to walking with Malfoy after their Herbology and Potions lessons. Like Hermione, Malfoy was taking Ancient Runes after Potions, so Harry had simply started walking with them both, Ron begrudgingly tagging along. But after Herbology was a break for them all, and Harry had been spending it lately with Malfoy in the library.

It had been awkward that Monday when Harry first suggested it. But before Malfoy could refuse, Harry had insisted that he needed help finishing the Potions homework. Half-annoyed, half-amused, Malfoy had given in, and the arrangement had continued throughout the week and into the next. With Malfoy as a study partner, Harry had been able to catch up on most of his homework, which was a nice perk in addition to knowing that Malfoy wasn't being cornered somewhere in the castle.

A deep sigh to his right putted Harry from his musings, and he turned to find Ron and Hermione smiling at one another, staring longingly into each other's eyes. It wasn't inappropriate by any means, but with most of the House already gone to bed, Harry definitely felt as though he were intruding.

"Well, I think I ought to catch some sleep," he said, quickly tossing his school things away and standing up. Neither Ron nor Hermione looked at him.

"I'll be up in a bit, mate."

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Right...goodnight, then."

\---

Harry dropped into a spot at breakfast the following morning, beyond exhausted. He hadn't slept more than two hours and was wondering how in the world he had survived on so little sleep this long. Yawning, he poured himself a cup of coffee and scanned the Slytherin table.

To his pleasure, Harry saw Malfoy sitting there, taking small bites of toast. It had taken a little bit of begging in the library after Herbology one day, but it seemed that Harry had finally convinced Malfoy to eat something at least once a day. Harry was sure Malfoy hadn't meant to let slip that he only ate once every few days and seemed to only agree to keep Harry from nagging anymore. But as Harry watched Malfoy eating for the third breakfast in a row, he felt satisfied that maybe the Slytherin had actually listened to him.

Malfoy was sitting next to a younger girl, a first year by the looks of her, who was turned toward him and talking rapidly. Her face was animated as she spoke with her hands, obviously telling Malfoy some kind of thrilling tale. Malfoy listened with a small smile on his face and gentleness in his eyes, a look that definitely suited him.

"Morning, Harry."

Neville dropped into the empty seat beside Harry, interrupting his thoughts.

"Morning."

"How's he been?"

"Hmm?"

"Malfoy," Neville clarified, nodding to where Harry was looking.

"Oh." Harry tore his eyes away to nod at Neville's question. "Lot better, yeah."

"No more, uh..." Neville glanced down the table, nodding again. "None of that, right?"

Harry followed Neville's eyes down the table. Towards the end closest to the doors sat Conrad, Maddox, and Cooper, eating a rather subdued breakfast. Harry shook his head as Hermione and Ron joined them.

Hermione followed Harry's glare.

"I've heard they've mostly stopped hanging out with Josh," she said. "Bit sad, really."

"A bit sad?" Harry asked, incredulous. "Hermione, the kids tried to literally blow Malfoy's head apart."

She sighed, fixing him with a pitying look. "It's hard to truly blame Josh for his prejudices, Harry. His actions were absolutely revolting, but the reasoning behind them is easy to understand."

"You cannot be serious-"

"I'm not saying he was right in what he did at all."

"Besides," Ron interjected around a mouthful of sausage, "it's not like it's weird for students to pick at each other in the corridors. Remember when Malfoy made me burp up slugs for a whole day?"

Harry ground his teeth. "That was entirely different."

Ron shook his head. "Same principle, mate. I reckon the only reason Malfoy didn't try to blow my brains out at the time was because we were twelve and didn't know how."

"It's just not-"

"Why're you so pro-Malfoy all the sudden, anyway?" came a voice from directly behind Harry. He turned and found himself within feet of Ginny for the first time in months, who was glaring down at him.

It was her glare, as though she had some right to dictate his emotions, that irritated Harry the most.

"Well, unlike some people, I'm trying to put the past behind me and get on with my life," he snapped at her.

"That supposed to mean something?" she snarled.

"Maybe," Harry said, his temper rising. "Since none of you seem to be trying to move past anything at all, just trying to stay stuck in the all the hate from before the war."

"You have got some _nerve_ ," Ginny hissed. But before Harry could retort, she had turned and stormed off.

Ron rounded on Harry as Ginny disappeared out of the doors. "What the hell's gotten into you lately? Playing Mr. Hero and keeping Malfoy from being murdered is one thing, but you're trying to...I don't know, be his friend or something."

Harry stood. Blood boiling, he abandoned his breakfast and left the Hall, stomping down towards the dungeons. He was going to be unnaturally early for Potions, but he didn't care.

What was the matter with all of them? Harry slammed his bag on the desk and threw himself into the chair, breathing hard. They were all adults now, they had fought on the front lines of the war against Voldemort, and all his friends apparently had to show for it was a pocketful of old prejudices. If Harry had known returning to Hogwarts meant returning to the bullshit that was their sixth year, he wouldn't have agreed to come.

Twenty minutes later when Ron and Hermione entered the classroom, Harry ignored them. He was still so furious with them that he didn't notice Malfoy sitting beside him until he spoke.

"Everything alright?"

Harry's eyes shot over to Ron, who was pointedly glaring at his textbook with his eyes not moving.

"Bloody great," Harry snapped.

He saw Malfoy flinch out of the corner of his eye, and guilt swept over him, melting some of the anger. Malfoy didn't cause this. Harry sighed, turning to fully face his deskmate.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you." Malfoy shrugged, and the guilt in Harry's stomach doubled. He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "It's just...how are people so...so..." He took another breath, closing his eyes as he continued. "How are people so backwards after everything that's happened? How are people so stuck in their ways that they can't see what's right and what's wrong anymore?"

Malfoy shrugged again, less wary and more understanding. "Sometimes...sometimes people just can't let go."

"I'm not saying letting go, just not being complete arseholes."

"Well, even so."

"It doesn't excuse-" But Harry's rant was stopped before it could start as Slughorn began the lesson.

"Last lesson's homework, with marks," he said, passing back rolls of parchment. "I'm pleased that most of you seem to have a full grasp of what ingredients separate the antidotes from the wards, but for those of you that didn't earn at least an E on this, please continue to study the concept."

Harry glanced at his paper, pleased to see the red E circled across the top. At least he wouldn't have to worry about adding that to his pile of 'study more' concepts.

"Now," Slughorn continued. "Today we're shifting away from all our work with poisons, antidotes, wards, and the like. We'll be taking a sharp turn in the other direction for the rest of the time that we have until Christmas and will be looking more closely at potions, draughts, and elixirs that alter the chemicals within us that dictate emotion."

All stirring ceased at Slughorn's words, and he grinned.

"So today, as an opener, I'd like you all to concoct as best a sample of a simple Bliss Potion. Make sure you are brewing the Bliss Potion rather than the Biiss Potion, a rather nastily effective exfoliator." Slughorn chuckled. "We'll be testing your potions next week, and I shudder to think of what would happen to one who drinks an Exfoliating Potion."

The class broke up then, collecting ingredients and starting their fires. Harry and Malfoy, much as the other pairs, had fallen into an easy rhythm with their own roles. Harry did most of the cutting, grinding, juicing, and skinning of ingredients while Malfoy tended to the actual potion. Overall, it made for better grades.

Before long, the dungeon was filled with the sounds of potions brewing alongside the soft, repetitive thuds of slicing the enormous roots that the recipe called for. Harry had to hold it tight so that he could properly chop it into the thin slices needed without losing any fingers. When he finished, he pushed the pile over to Malfoy's side of the desk so that he could add them to the cauldron, but as Harry started to grind down some lavender, Harry realized that Malfoy hadn't moved to even look at the roots.

"Hey, did you not need these yet?" Harry asked, looking over.

Malfoy was standing there, staring blankly at the contents of the bubbling cauldron, swaying back and forth slightly.

"Hey," Harry said again. Then louder when Malfoy didn't respond, "Hey!"

"What?" Malfoy asked, blinking rapidly and looking around. "What? Oh, you're done with the-"

"What's going on? You alright?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm fine," Malfoy said, collecting the roots and carefully adding them to the potion. "Just tired is all. I...I don't get a lot of sleep."

"How much do you ususally get?"

"Usually about an hour."

Harry blinked. "What, like at a time?"

"Ah...no," Malfoy said, not looking at him. "Total."

"What the-" Harry cut himself off, rubbing his eyes in frustration. "You can't be serious. Regularly? How are you not dead?"

Malfoy just chuckled softly and kept stirring.

"No, I'm serious, Malfoy. You have got to get more sleep than that. Ask Madam Pomfrey for a Sleeping Draught or something."

Malfoy's grin fell. "I don't need to be a bother and drink away her stores. I'm doing alright."

"Okay, you're not going to be a bother, especially if you tell her why you need them." Harry glared at Malfoy's profile, sighing when the other didn't respond. "One of these days, I'm going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you _are_ worth the time and trouble to not die of sleep deprivation."

There was no answer, but Harry saw Malfoy's lips turn up in a tiny smile, which he took to be a good sign. Until Malfoy's head began to shake from side to side.

"You really have to stop trying to save everyone, Potter."

Harry didn't have a response to that.

\---

It was a little past midnight, and Harry was roaming the castle instead of sleeping again. Drained as he was, he couldn't stop the onslaught of thoughts, memories, and emotions that came for him when the sun went down. Ron had mostly apologized for breakfast, though Harry was fairly certain the apology had been delivered only at Hermione's insistence.

Harry's feet led him through the corridors aimlessly, knowing most routes without needing to lift his eyes. Filch had retired after the war, though many suspected that McGonagall has personally seen that he leave the castle for good. He had yet to be replaced, a fact McGonagall had not mentioned to the main student body. Harry knew that the teachers took turns patrolling the castle at night in Filch's place, but Harry was far less concerned with being caught out of bed than he once was.

Before long, Harry was climbing the steps of the Astronomy Tower. He hadn't returned there since he had seen Malfoy there before, but tonight felt like a good night to go back.

At the top, Harry found Malfoy on the ground.

"Malfoy?"

He hadn't said it very loud, but Harry rushed over when Malfoy didn't reply. He dropped to Malfoy's side, heart beginning to hammer, only to find that the Slytherin was...asleep.

Malfoy's eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, chest rising and falling in smooth, deep breaths. He hadn't a cloak on for some reason, and for it, Malfoy was shivering in the chill of the tower.

"Uh..." Harry gently shook Malfoy's shoulder and he spoke softly. "Malfoy?"

Malfoy didn't answer but rolled over and pressed his face into Harry's knee. After a second, Malfoy's body curled inward, unconsciously seeking the heat that Harry had.

A wild idea struck Harry like a bolt of lightning.

It was to help Malfoy, really. Harry couldn't just leave him to sleep on a freezing floor at the top of the Astronomy Tower. But he also couldn't get into the Slytherin common room and hope to find which bed was Malfoy's in the dark. Too, Gryffindor Tower was drastically closer, and Harry could get inside.

Biting his lip, Harry looked down at Malfoy, almost hoping he would wake up. But the blond slept on, his body inching closer to Harry the longer he sat there.

Fuck it.

Harry leaned over and gathered Malfoy in his arms, one wrapping behind Malfoy's back and the other tucking under his knees. As he pulled Malfoy into his chest, Harry was struck with how frighteningly thin and light he was. Malfoy was no more than an inch taller than Harry and may have always been a bit lean, but Harry could easily count the ribs through Malfoy's shirt and robes.

It wasn't exactly as easy as Harry had thought it would be, carrying Malfoy bridal-style back to Gryffindor Tower. Light as he was, Malfoy's dead weight in his slumber only seemed to grow heavier as Harry walked carefully so as not to jostle him too much or whack his head on anything.

It took nearly ten minutes but Harry finally reached the portrait hole and climbed in (after angrily shushing a curious Fat Lady) and sneaked into his dormitory. He slowly laid Malfoy out on his bed and glanced around. It was too dark to see, but Harry could hear the calm snores of Ron, Neville, Dean, and Seamus from behind their curtains. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Very carefully so as not to wake Malfoy, Harry removed Malfoy's robes and shoes. He stirred slightly as Harry worked, but after a few stressful minutes, Harry had Malfoy lying on his bed in only his undershirt and his pants, still sound asleep. Far more comfortable for sleeping. Luckily, Harry's covers were as he had left them, shoved to the side, making it easy to cover Malfoy up without further disturbing him.

Harry straightened up and admired his work. Malfoy, Mr. Only-Sleeps-An-Hour-A-Night, was comfortable and warm, and he had been asleep for at least twenty minutes that Harry knew of, so perhaps this would be the night Malfoy would break the record.

But as Harry's heavy breathing slowed down and a yawn shook his body, he realized he had a dilemma he hadn't thought about when he made the decision to carry Malfoy's unconscious body across the castle and back to his bed.

Where was _he_ going to sleep?

The bed was fairly small, definitely not big enough to give two grown men adequate room for sleeping. He could sleep on the floor or in the common room. But what if someone found Malfoy before Harry woke up, or Malfoy woke first and drew attention to himself in his confusion? Harry didn't think many other Gryffindors would be too pleased to find Draco Malfoy of all people in their House in the middle of the night.

Damn it, Harry really didn't think this through.

But with little choice, Harry removed his own cloak, robes, and shoes, stripping down to just as much clothing as he had left on Malfoy, and slipped under the blankets and into the bed.

Malfoy was easily taking up most of the bed, leaving Harry to perch awkwardly on the very edge. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Harry only lasted a minute before he nudged Malfoy's side.

"Move over," he whispered through another yawn.

"Mmmm..." Malfoy didn't wake, but he shifted over to give Harry more room.

Suddenly struck with a stroke of brilliance, Harry reached over the side of the bed to retrieve his wand and hit the drawn curtains with a Freezing Charm. Hopefully it would deter the others from opening them. Then he dropped his wand onto his pile of clothes and laid back.

At first, Harry was incredibly stiff as he laid there, unsure of what to do with his limbs as he shared a bed with Malfoy. But when Malfoy rolled over and threw his arm across Harry's chest, snuggling into his side, Harry felt his body automatically relax. His mind was reeling at the sensation of Malfoy breathing on his exposed neck, legs tangling themselves with his own, hand lazily grabbing at his shirt.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes. He had learned to take things as they came from the moment he had entered the wizarding world. There wasn't any reason to change that now.

* * *

Draco was so incredibly comfortable and warm. He couldn't remember ever being so relaxed, so at peace. It had been years since he could recall waking up like this. He pressed his body more into the pillow he was cuddling, breathing in an achingly comforting smell that he was vaguely aware didn't normally belong to his pillow. Nor did his pillow usually move in time with his own breathing. Or have an arm that rested on his back. Draco began to pull himself out of sleep as he started to realize that the noises around him were unfamiliar. He had his own room. Why were there sounds of movement next to the bed?

"Oi! You awake in there?"

Draco shot into a sitting position, blinking around in alarm at the sound of Ron Weasley's voice, loud and clear at his side. It was dark still, but Draco was surrounded by a royal red, and pressed against him was...

Potter, sitting up just as straight and looking just as panicked as Draco felt.

Draco opened his mouth but Potter slapped a hand across it, his other hand coming up to the base of Draco's head to make sure that he couldn't speak.

"I'm up, I'm up," Potter said, eyes still on Draco as he answered Weasley.

"Why're your curtains so stiff?" Weasley asked. "I can't open them."

"I...er...I just..." Potter licked his lips, looking toward the curtain. "I just wanted some privacy."

A pause, followed by a snicker. "You know, you could just go to the bathroom for that."

Potter's face flushed. "I-that's not what I meant!"

But Weasley just laughed. "Whatever you say, mate, just get going already. You're the last one up and breakfast is already started. If you want to eat before Herbology, you better get up."

"Right," Potter said weakly. "Right. Well...I'll...I'll meet you and Hermione there, okay?"

"Sure thing," Weasley said, still laughing.

He didn't leave right away. Draco and Potter sat there for felt like ages, listening as Weasley moved about the room. Potter's hand slipped from Draco's mouth but the hand cradling the back of his head remained, fingers moving so subtly in his hair that Draco wasn't sure Potter even knew he was doing it. Weasley seemed to be taking his time on purpose, unwittingly leaving Draco and Potter to simply sit there in silence. In Potter's bed. Under the covers. Legs still mostly tangled together.

Draco was rapidly becoming overly aware of how close they were. Barely a foot separated their faces, their hips smashed together, and Draco's leg was resting over Potter's thigh beneath the blankets. As Draco breathed as quietly as he could, he could smell Potter everywhere. It was overwhelming, and it was overwhelming how much Draco was _enjoying_ it.

A door finally opened and shut, latch clicking before giving way to absolute silence.

He should have leapt from the bed and ran. He should have shoved Potter away from him, shouted at him. But Draco didn't do anything when it became obvious that they were alone. Nearly a full minute ticked by and Draco couldn't bring himself to move.

But when Potter licked his lips and gulped, Draco spoke.

"What-" He stopped when his voice caught, and he cleared his throat. "Why am I here?"

It sounded a lot angrier than he had meant for it to. Potter's hand dropped from Draco's head. Irritation flooded Draco when he realized that he was _disappointed_ by the action.

"I, er, found you asleep at the top of the Astronomy Tower," Potter said. "I couldn't just leave you there."

"How the hell did you come to the conclusion to bring me into your dormitory?" Draco asked, forcing himself to sound calm. "Into your _bed_?"

"I didn't know where else to take you. But I couldn't just leave you there."

Draco rolled his eyes. "You easily could have if you weren't the swollen-headed prat that you are."

A smile found Potter's lips as he nodded, not taking the bait to argue. "I guess I could have, but...I didn't want to."

It caught Draco off guard, the genuine concern in Potter's voice. For a moment, he couldn't think of what to say, instead trying not to focus too much on how his leg was still resting on Potter's. When he found that he couldn't, Draco asked, "So how am I supposed to get out of here without causing an enormous scene?"

There was a somewhat blank look in Potter's eyes for a second, then he leaned over the edge of the bed and produced a bundle of flowing fabric that reminded Draco of liquid silver.

"Is that..."

"It's an invisibility cloak," Potter answered with a grin. "It was my dad's. You can wear this and walk beside me, and I'll lead you out. Fool proof."

"Of course you have a bloody invisibility cloak," Draco said, rolling his head back as he thought on all the times Potter had appeared somewhere seemingly impossible, how Potter always knew things he shouldn't.

They dressed in silence after Potter unFroze the curtains, hardly looking at one another. Draco felt distinctly disheveled as he put on the same clothes he wore the day before, but oddly enough, he felt very...rested. More rested than he had in ages. Months, at the very least, maybe even years. It was as though in one night, the exhaustion that Draco had just considered part of his personality at that point had been cut in half.

"Here," Potter said when they were dressed, offering Draco the cloak. He pulled it over his head and was surprised at the clarity of vision through the fabric. "Just...stick close to me."

Draco hardly needed convincing.

The Gryffindor common room was so... _loud_. Red and gold were everywhere, making everything look as though on fire in the morning light that filtered through the tall windows. A few students lingered, gathering their school things or waiting on friends. Some of them smiled and waved at Potter as he walked past. He politely returned the gestures each time as he led Draco through a maze of tables and armchairs. A large hole covered most of one of the walls, and Draco watched in fascination as Potter stepped into it, pushed the indented stone there, and stepped into a corridor. Draco stayed close, unsure of how long the wall would remain open.

The corridor wasn't empty, students further down as they made their way to breakfast and waiting just outside for others. Draco turned at a fine squeak of metal behind him just in time to see that the hole Potter had led him through was covered by an enormous portrait of a gluttonous witch with a few too many chins.

"Come on," Potter muttered. He was looking a few inches to the right of Draco, nodding his head down the corridor before walking off, leaving Draco to follow.

Potter led Draco to an empty classroom a couple corridors away, closing the door after waiting a couple seconds too long for Draco to enter. With a deep breath, Draco removed the cloak. Potter's eyes shot over to him as Draco emerged and handed over the cloak. Potter tucked it into his bag with a small smile.

A muscle in Draco's chest tightened uncomfortably.

"You can't do that again," he said.

Potter raised his brows but nodded. "I suppose you're right. That was a bit of a nightmare waking up, wasn't it? Nearly wet myself."

Draco pursed his lips to keep from chuckling though Potter continued to grin at him. It was horribly awkward. "I...uh, appreciate what you meant by it, but you really should have just left me there. I would've woken up in a few minutes and gone back to my own bed."

"Exactly."

"Sorry?"

Potter tilted his head. "You would've just slept a few minutes if I'd left you there. But you slept all night, didn't you?"

"Uh..."

"So I think what you meant to say was 'thank you'."

"Thank you?" Draco asked, slightly aghast.

"You're welcome."

Draco scowled at Potter's self-satisfied smirk. "I...it...sure, it was nice to sleep more than ten minutes at a time, Potter, but really, it's nothing more than what I deserve."

Potter's smirk faded and he sighed. "I know you think that. But eventually, one day, I will change your mind about that."

"I am not some game to play, some person to save."

"I know." Potter's face was serious, all traces of teasing gone. For a few seconds, Draco simply stood there and stared back at him, unsure of what to say. But when he realized that he was beginning to lean on his toes, chest leading him forward ever so slightly, Draco shook himself, stepped around Potter, and left without another word.


	10. Chapter 10

Malfoy avoided Harry for the better part of a week, which Harry had to admit was just downright impressive after the third day. When lessons ended on Friday, Harry dumped his things off in Gryffindor Tower and planned to hunt Malfoy down, but Hermione grabbed him by the arm when he made to break away from the group heading down to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" she asked. Ron hesitated a moment beside them, but when Hermione waved her hand at him, he continued down the staircase with a shrug.

Harry inched away, hoping her hand would just slip off of him if he did it carefully enough. "Just...I'm not hungry yet."

"Fascinating answer to a question I didn't ask."

"When did you get to be so snarky?"

"I think maybe you just haven't been listening to me for the past seven years."

Harry brought a hand to his chest in mock-offense. "Hermione Granger, I have listened to every word you have ever said."

She rolled her eyes and finally let go of him, but Harry didn't make the break for it he had planned only seconds prior. He sighed and glanced at the group of students that were filing away from them.

"I was going to look for Malfoy," he finally said.

Hermione nodded. "He's been avoiding you, hasn't he?"

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "How did you-"

"I have eyes, Harry. You two are practically friends now, but he's been ignoring you in lessons and leaves before you can walk with him after."

"Right..." Of course Hermione noticed. Surely others had, too. Not that it bothered Harry, who had always been in the spotlight and the center of various levels of outright wild rumors, but it did make his cheeks feel somewhat warm at the thought of what others might be saying about him and Malfoy.

"So, what's happened?" Hermione asked. "Not like what happened before, right? I mean, he hasn't been hurt, has he?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that..." Harry ran his hand through his hair and looked out a nearby window. Not that he didn't trust Hermione to handle it with grace and discretion, but telling her about what had happened did not appeal to him. Knowing him, he'd likely tell the story wrong and give off the wrong impression of what had happened and why it had happened.

"Well, that's good," Hermione said. "So why's he ignoring you? Lover's spat?"

Harry snapped his eyes back to her.

"Wh-what?" he sputtered.

"You heard me."

"I-Hermione...that just-" He took a breath. "No, Hermione. It's not like that, either. I'm...I'm not even gay."

Hermione shrugged. "Doesn't make a difference."

"How does that make any sense?"

She fixed him with an uncertain look as she bit her lip. "I saw you bring Malfoy into your dormitory, Harry."

His stomach dropped out of his body entirely and his lungs stopped working for several seconds. Harry's mouth fell open as he took a subconscious step back. He had been so careful. He had looked around when he entered the common room - no one had been there.

As his lungs began to allow him to take the shallowest of breaths, Harry tried to swallow while he struggled to find something to say.

"I...er...didn't see you," he said lamely. "I...I looked all around the common room. No one...no one was there."

"Well, that'd be because I was in Ron's bed when I saw you."

Harry closed his mouth with a snap in an attempt not to dramatically gasp. It came out in his voice regardless. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

Face a brilliant magenta, Hermione drew herself up in as dignified a stance as she could. "That's really none of your business."

Harry laughed. "Oh ho ho, no, Hermione, I think it just became my business."

"I had just been about to leave when you came into the room with Malfoy in your arms," she said pointedly. "And when Ron had told me the next morning that you had your curtains Frozen, I just...I kind of assumed..."

"N-no!" Harry half-shouted, mortified. How had the conversation ended up here so quickly? "No, I'm not...I'm not having sex with Malfoy! Just because you and Ron-"

Hermione's blush deepened. "That's not what I was implying! Ron and I haven't even...look, I just assumed that maybe you two were...you know...together."

Embarrassment scorched through Harry's body, burning his skin and making him want to crawl into a hole for the rest of eternity. But amidst that humiliation, Harry's mind was now involuntarily piecing together images of him and Malfoy, of skin and lips and-

Harry physically shook his head, taking another step back.

"No," he said, finally answering Hermione. "No, it's...it's not like that. I just found him asleep in the Astronomy Tower and thought he needed a place to sleep. He told me he hasn't been sleeping more than an hour a night."

Hermione just looked at him.

"Really," he said.

"Harry," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but no platonic friend would carry their friend, asleep, halfway across the castle and crawl into bed with them. That's not how friendship works, at least not with boys. I mean, what would you have done if you found Ron asleep somewhere in the castle?"

"I'd kick him and tell him to get up," Harry said without thinking. When Hermione just raised her brows at him for it, Harry groaned. "We are not having this conversation. I do not have a crush or whatever on Malfoy. I am not gay."

Right?

Intrusive thoughts flashed across his mind. Pale skin, pale hair, pale eyes. A leg across his own. Skin beneath clothing that was just in the way-

"Look," Hermione said calmly, thankfully interrupting his thoughts. "I'm not trying to corner you or give you an identity crisis. I just want to tell you to be careful."

That took Harry by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"You and I both know Malfoy's not out to do anymore harm. That much is obvious if you spend five minutes with him and aren't completely thick. But most people _are_ completely thick, especially when it comes to Malfoy. I'm not saying it's fair," she said, throwing up a hand to stop Harry's forming retort. "But it's the way it is, at least for right now, and you're the Chosen One, the wizard that killed Voldemort. You're going to be famous for the rest of your life, Harry, and people are going to be watching your every move."

Like he didn't know that already, Harry thought bitterly.

Hermione sighed as though hearing his thoughts. "All I'm saying is that if you persist this...let's call it a 'friendship' with Malfoy, it's going to draw attention. Just...be prepared for it to be taken either way."

"I don't have a crush on Malfoy," Harry said again, but even he could hear how unconvincing he sounded. "I'm not...this-this is the absolute last thing I need this year."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. "I know. But you of all people ought to know by now that we don't really have a say in when things like this come up. You've faced worse and come out on top. I doubt a little thing like a crush on Malfoy is going to ruin you now."

Harry had a crush on Malfoy. He, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, Gryffindor through and through, had a crush on Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater, bully extraordinaire, Slytherin to the letter. There was absolutely no way this was happening. But as Harry rubbed his eyes, Malfoy's face filled the darkness behind his eyelids, sending waves of pleasure from his heart to his abdomen, settling deep in his stomach.

He had a crush on Malfoy.

When his hands fell from his face, Hermione still stood there with a smile on her face. She linked her arm in his and began leading the way down the staircase.

"Come on. Let's go have dinner, and then you can have your identity crisis in peace. It'll go better if you've got food in your stomach."

* * *

The fire danced in its grate, sending shadows across the empty Slytherin common room. This was how Draco preferred it. Warm, quiet, and semi-dark. He hadn't gone to dinner with the rest of the school after lessons, choosing instead to enjoy the perfect conditions of solitude in the most comfortable armchair by the fire.

At least that was part of the reason he had skipped dinner.

Draco had done a rather good job of avoiding Potter since walking out on him the morning after waking in Gryffindor Tower. They only had two lessons together, and Professors Slughorn and Sprout made his job far easier by spending the week lecturing and assigning tests. He didn't look at Potter, didn't answer him, and practically ran from him when the bells rang.

But it wasn't just the flesh and blood Potter that Draco found himself avoiding. After fleeing that empty classroom to the safety of the grounds, Draco had found himself assaulted with the too-fresh memories of Potter's hands on him, his legs wound in his, his smell washing over him. It had nearly sent Draco into another panic but, almost more annoying, thinking of Potter's eyes on him, that smile playing at his lips, had calmed him almost instantly.

The sensation in Draco's chest at the mere thought of Potter troubled him.

And so, to not only avoid seeing Potter but also thinking of him, Draco had spent nearly every minute of the past three days busying himself with schoolwork. His homework had never been so taken care of in all his years at Hogwarts, and his knowledge of his study topics had never been so extensive. He was likely to receive perfect scores on his upcoming tests and assignments. Draco drew little satisfaction from the thought, thinking wistfully of all the sleep he could have at least been trying to have during those hours.

Draco rubbed his eyes.

The common room entrance slid open and a group of first year girls wandered in, chattering happily. They either didn't see Draco or ignored him, finding their way around a nearby table to continue their conversation without even glancing over. Just as well, Draco thought. He wouldn't know what to say to them anyway, except for maybe...

"Hi!" Karen dropped into the armchair beside him, positively beaming at him.

Draco raised his brows at her. "What's with the enthusiasm?"

"What with you skipping dinner?"

"I usually do. It's not that strange."

"But for the third day in a row, it is."

"Of course you'd memorize my eating habits."

"Of course," Karen said proudly. "Someone has to make sure you eat!"

Potter had once nearly begged him to eat. Those green eyes had turned up at him, wide and pleading...

"Yeah, well, shouldn't you be with your friends?" Draco asked. "It's the weekend now. Time for...whatever it is friends do together."

Karen glanced over at the table of first years and shrugged. "To be honest, I'd rather sit here with you for now."

"Mmm? And what could possess an eleven-year-old girl to sit with a grumpy old man instead of her friends?"

She scrunched up her face. "They're talking about boys."

"Oh." Draco hadn't a clue what to say to that. Perhaps boys were different, but he hadn't hadn't spent even a minute of his childhood once sitting around talking about girls. What was there even to say about them? That they were high maintenance and shrill? More conniving than he could ever hope to be? Overly fragrant and a confusing array of emotions that rarely lined up with sense?

Though, if he were honest, Draco thought as the entrance opened to admit more students, he, Crabbe, and Goyle hadn't often talked a lot when it had just been the three of them. It had mostly been Draco spouting off some spoiled, entitled nonsense or outlining his plans for becoming a Death Eater. It hadn't been until midway through sixth year, when Crabbe and Goyle began spending time together without him, that Draco wondered if the three had ever even been proper friends.

"Draco?"

He started in his seat and looked around. Karen was eyeing him expectantly.

"Uh...yes?"

"I was talking to you."

"Oh. Sorry I was just-"

"Don't bother with this one," a high-pitched voice interrupted.

Draco knew that voice. He cringed as he looked up and saw Pansy standing over him, giving Karen a haughty look. Easily three times the first year's size, Pansy stepped around Draco's chair to stand in front of them both, arms crossed and legs locked. To Karen's credit, she didn't seem intimidated, only confused.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't bother barking up this one's tree," Pansy said, nodding to Draco but not looking at him directly. "He's not worth anyone's time."

"What are you-"

"You're better off looking for some little first year boy that actually likes girls."

Draco groaned inwardly. It had been easily a year since he had actually spoken to Pansy, and for good reason, he had always told himself. But she was apparently still licking some wounds and trying to cause a scene as the common room continued to fill with students returning from dinner. Several paused to look over at them.

Draco had known even at the time what a mistake it was, abruptly accepting Pansy's advances after nearly six years of mostly ignoring them. As Hogwarts had slowly fallen under the Dark control of the Carrows, with Snape hardly intervening in the tortures they had begun to carry out as regular punishments, sickening worry had taken Draco by full force, much to the notice of Pansy. She had always been enamored with him, he knew, and being a true Slytherin, she had happily used Draco's vulnerability to her advantage.

_"Just to help take the edge off," Pansy said, her eyes peering at him through clumped lashes._

"I don't need some boy to like me," Karen said, her cheeks turning pink but her eyes set and determined. "I don't even like boys."

Pansy laughed, an unnatural sound that raked at the interior of Draco's skull. "Well, when you get yourself some of these-" She unnecessarily drew her arms in, pressing her bust upwards into a more prominent position. "-you'll change your mind. Trust me."

Draco fought the bile that bubbled in his throat at the sight.

_"See, not so scary, hm?" Pansy purred, moving Draco's hand for him under her shirt. His eyes closed tight. It wasn't scary, no. It was just wrong._

Karen crossed her arms. "No, I don't think I will."

"Oh, you foolish little-"

"Just leave her alone, Pansy," Draco said, surprising himself.

"You think you have any right to tell me what to do, faggot?"

The common room fell into a tense silence, but for the first time that year, Draco didn't feel any fear at the sudden, incredibly negative attention. He didn't even look away from Pansy's furious face, though he did choose not to stand.

"It's not about my right to talk, it's about leaving a little girl that has nothing to do with what you're really mad about alone."

Pansy stepped closer to him. Her perfume stung his nose.

_Her lips were too thick, too slippery. Her tongue was dripping in hot saliva, forcing its way into his mouth as he desperately tried not to gag._

"Trying to have a conscience now?" she hissed dangerously. Though speaking softer than before, Pansy's voice easily carried across the room. "Wormed your way out of trouble with the law, now you're just going to sit here and force yourself on us all? No one wants you here, least of all any of us," she said, gesturing to the crowded common room. "You should just get out before something awful happens to you."

_He shoved her off of him, hard. Pansy's eyes popped open as Draco vomited on the floor between them, staggering away from her._

"He's not forcing himself on anyone!" Karen spoke up, her voice startlingly loud against Pansy's. "If anything, you're the one forcing all this drama on us all! It's Friday. We're supposed to be relaxing."

As if to emphasize her point, Karen fell back into her armchair and kicked her feet up onto the armrest. A few onlookers laughed, and quiet conversations began to replace the sticky silence. Pansy continued to glare at Draco, her face much too close to his despite there being easily three feet of space between them. He could only breathe in her perfume for a few more moments before having to finally turn his face away.

He heard her scoff. "You're pathetic. I never thought you'd grow up to be a fucking poof."

Only the drift of her perfume told Draco that Pansy had finally stormed off, leaving him to take a deep breath of air that didn't make him want to be sick. A sigh filled his lungs, and as Draco released it, his body fell completely slack in the chair. He may not have felt the usual fear of confrontation at the time but it seemed that his body was just as exhausted from the encounter as though he had.

"She's a bitch."

Draco looked over a Karen, who had her head tilted back on the armrest to look at him.

"You shouldn't curse," he said. "You're just a kid."

She shrugged. "Well, she is."

"Yeah, she is."

"So...is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Are you gay?"

It wasn't the question Draco had been expecting, but it hardly surprised him. It hadn't been said out loud, but ever since that horrible, horrible night with Pansy the previous year, Draco had known. At first, he had tried to reason that it had just been Pansy. She was built rather like an unfortunate cross between a bulldog and a troll. But when Draco had begun forcing himself to picture similar acts with other girls, only to have them pleasurably morph into boys, he had come to the only logical conclusion.

"Yes, I am."

"Hmm."

That was all she had to say about it? Karen had moved her head down to stare somewhere over her feet that were still on the opposite armrest, so Draco couldn't read her facial expression. She didn't say anymore for several minutes, and Draco decided after a bit to take it as s good sign. Not that he would have necessarily blamed Karen. The wizarding world was a bit more ahead of the times than what little he knew about the muggle world, but they still had a long way to go for total acceptance.

It had only bothered Draco for about a week, him finding out that he was gay. There had been a lot more going on at the time. Their world had been on the brink of war, students had been being tortured, Draco had been forced repeatedly to make unimaginable choices that continued to haunt him. No, he hadn't the time to stress about what being gay meant for him. He had never made to hide it, exactly. But then again, opportunities to bring it up had hardly presented themselves while the whole of the wizarding world had been in peril.

But even after the war, Draco hadn't worried over it. He had far worse crimes he had committed than preferring men to women.

"I think I might be gay, too."

Draco started a bit at Karen's voice, soft but distinct. "Uh...what was that?"

She flipped over in her chair to fully face him. "I think I might be gay, too."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't like boys. Not like my other girl friends do."

"Well, I hardly think-"

"They're just gross. I don't want to touch a boy. Ever."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"What?" Karen asked, indignant. "What's so funny? I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that you're so young," he said. "What makes you think you know what you like already?"

"I'm old enough that others assume I like boys. That should mean I'm old enough for _me_ to know what _I_ like. And I definitely don't like boys. So I probably like girls, right?"

The conversation was quickly drifting into the realm of what Draco found to be rather uncomfortable. "Look, I don't know if I'm the right person for this-"

"How did you find out?"

Definitely not. Draco closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry," Karen said. "I'm just curious."

"It's alright," Draco said. "It's just, uh, personal. I'd rather not get into it. But believe me, when you know, you know."

Karen pursed her lips trying to make sense of Draco's response, before she sighed dramatically and collapsing into the armchair again. "Well, when you find somebody you love, can I meet him? Maybe he'll be willing to talk to me."

At that, Draco stood. He really had overstayed his welcome in the busy common room, and he was so drained from everything that had happened in the past half hour that he hoped he might actually be able to sleep.

"Nobody is going to love me while I'm here at Hogwarts," he said softly, feeling the truth in his words. Potter's green eyes flashed in his mind, though, bright and close, stirring something painful in Draco's chest.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to update my tags! I was skimming through this chapter as I've been doing to make sure the formatting is transferring correctly and realized that this chapter contains a particularly dark moment that could be disturbing for some. Should suicidal thoughts trigger you, please stop reading when the chapter switches to Draco's POV, and you can resume toward the bottom third where I've bolded the word SEVERAL. I'm sorry for any inconvenience to readers that were not wanting or expecting to read a story with such material. After this chapter, however, there is nothing else as graphic in that way.

For the first time that term, Harry was going to Hogsmeade. It was a frigid Saturday, snow blanketing the grounds and heavy winds knocking over the smallest first years, but Harry figured it was time to just do it. He hadn't gone yet simply because he was avoiding the awestruck stares that his newfound heroism brought whenever he stepped into a public space. Buying his school supplies in Diagon Alley had been an absolute nightmare that he hadn't been eager to repeat.

But Ron and Hermione had been rather insistent that he go at least once before the holidays, and Harry had figured that the Hogsmeade trip before the one that immediately preceded the break would be his best bet. When he had woken that morning to see the awful weather to accompany it, Harry had grinned at his luck.

It wasn't just the timing and the weather and his friends' pleas that had Harry leaving the relative privacy of the castle that Saturday. The day before, Harry had bumped into Luna, who mentioned that Malfoy was also planning to visit Hogsmeade, something he apparently hadn't done all year, either.

Harry had tried his best not to force his friendship all over Malfoy since discovering that he was nursing a soft spot (he was refusing the term 'crush') for the Slytherin the week prior. It made Potions somewhat awkward, but Harry was pleased that Malfoy hadn't taken to outright avoiding him anymore. They talked as they had before, discussing the lesson or the homework when they walked together to Malfoy's Ancient Runes lesson or when they spent the morning break in the library. It was easy, but Harry's heart screamed at him that it wasn't enough.

And so, wrapped up tight in his scarf, cloak, hat, and mittens, Harry made his way through the brewing blizzard with Ron, Hermione, Neville, and several other old friends. The walk was brutal, nobody saying a word as they turned their faces down against the unrelenting wind. Harry kept glancing among the students trying to spot Malfoy but to no avail.

It wasn't until they had entered the village and the shops lining the cobbled street blocked some of the wind that Harry spotted him. Malfoy was just as bundled as everyone else, a dark wooly hat pulled over his blond hair. It was only chance that Harry spotted his profile as Malfoy tucked into a bookshop.

"Blimey, it's cold," Ron muttered at Harry's side. "Let's get a drink, eh?"

The group was shivering violently despite their layers, and everyone nodded in agreement, inching toward the nearby Three Broomsticks Pub.

Harry's eyes were still on the bookshop, indecision in his chest.

"Harry?"

"I'll, er, meet you guys there," he said. He looked over and saw Ron and Hermione stopped and waiting for him. "Really, I'll catch up. There's something I want to check out first."

Ron shrugged, but Hermione smiled knowingly at Harry before slipping her hand into Ron's and allowing herself to be led away. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Harry made his way over to the bookshop.

It was an old-looking building called Tomes and Scrolls, and as far as Harry knew, few students frequented the place. The Hogwarts library had most everything a student could possibly need or want, including a large collection of both wizarding and muggle novels. But Harry knew he had seen Malfoy enter, and he took a breath of sharp, cold air, coughed a bit for it, and stepped inside.

Harry's ears rang slightly at the abrupt silence that met him after the roar of the winds. The shop was larger than it looked from the outside and was a bit dusty smelling. Other than the fact that all the shelves were hardly more than a meter tall, Harry was fiercely reminded of the Hogwarts library.

There were only a handful of customers quietly browsing the shelves, making it easy to spot Malfoy a few rows in talking softly with Luna. Malfoy's head was bowed slightly to speak with Luna as she seemed to be combing the shelves, speaking softly back. Luna had been on friendly terms with Malfoy longer than Harry had, but the scene still stirred some surprise.

Luna looked up then and caught Harry staring.

"Harry!" she called in a hushed voice, waving her arm and gesturing for him to join them.

"Hey, Luna," he said as he drew nearer. "How are you?"

"Oh, just wonderful!" She nodded at Malfoy. "Draco was just helping me look for a book I cannot seem to find."

"Is that right?" Harry smiled at Malfoy, who shrugged.

"Oh yes," Luna continued. "It's a text that outlines the finer mysteries of wand fairies. Wand fairies are remarkably similar to mollies, and as I cannot seem to find a single book on mollies, I am searching for this book instead."

"Er...what are mollies?"

Luna smiled vaguely as she stepped around Harry to continue browsing the shelf. "Mollies are tiny, beautiful creatures that are strictly male. They have a powerful magic that invokes love and lust."

Harry shot a puzzled look at Malfoy, who didn't seem to have any answers but stifled a laugh behind a cough.

"Well, if it's not here..." Luna straightened and frown at the bookshelf. "I suppose I'll have to bother the shop owner. Well, I'll see you back at the castle then, shall I? Enjoy your afternoon."

Gliding like a fairy herself, Luna wandered away, leaving Harry alone with Malfoy.

"So," Harry began. "Come here often?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You sound like an idiot when you ask that."

A sheepish grin spread across Harry's face. "Just trying to make conversation. If you just helped me, I wouldn't have to sound like an idiot all the time."

"Well, maybe there doesn't have to always be conversation."

"You telling me to be quiet?"

"Maybe."

Harry chuckled quietly and turned to look at the books lining the shelves. It seemed that most of the books there were actually quite fairy-related, and Harry wondered if the book Luna claimed to be looking for even existed. If not, she was bound to be wasting most of the poor owner's afternoon.

"This is actually my first time in here," Malfoy said, breaking the silence.

Harry looked up. "So we actually _can_ have a conversation right now?"

"Oh, shut it." Annoyance flashed across Malfoy's face as he made to turn away. Harry reached out and grabbed his hand before he could think twice about it.

They were both still wearing their mittens, but a pleasant warmth still flowed through Harry at the contact. "Relax, I was only messing around. It's your first time here, then? Looking for something specific?"

Malfoy's eyes were slightly narrowed as he stared down at their hands, and it seemed to take a great effort for him to force his eyes up to meet Harry's when he answered. "Uh...no. I can find anything I could ever want at Hogwarts. I just thought I'd check the place out is all. Didn't want to go anywhere too crowded."

"So suggesting a drink at the Three Broomsticks is out of the question?"

"Yeah, I'd rather avoid all the glares I'd get just by being alive."

Harry squeezed Malfoy's hand, drawing Malfoy's attention to them again. Satisfaction pooled in Harry's chest like a victory when Malfoy still didn't pull his hand away.

"I get it."

"I don't think you do."

"Oh, but I really think I do. People have always stared at me. It's got to be the most obnoxious thing I've ever experienced, and that's saying something. You ought to meet my aunt and uncle."

Malfoy frowned. "People have always stared at you because you're Harry bleeding Potter, the Boy Who Lived and all that. The stares are different than the ones I'm getting, I can assure you."

"Well, sure," Harry said, taking a tiny step closer. "They're adoring and all that now, but it's hardy always been that way. Remember in our second year, when everyone thought I was the one attacking muggleborns? Or in our fourth year, when everyone thought I put my name in the Goblet of Fire just to be a fame-hungry git? I promise, I was getting just as awful of looks as you think you're getting now."

It was taking a lot of concentration not to focus solely on Malfoy's hand in his or how Malfoy still had yet to move away from him. Harry watched as Malfoy's lips pursed together, pulling into his mouth and wetting them slightly. It was mesmerizing.

"You mean you actually didn't put your name in the Goblet?"

"What?" Harry looked up from Malfoy's lips. "No, that was Crouch."

"The judge?"

"No, no," Harry chuckled lightly. "No, it's...it's a long story, but it was Crouch's son that was thought to be dead. He had used some Polyjucie Potion to pretend to be Professor Moody that year so he could make sure I touched the Triwizard Cup. It was a portkey," Harry said as utter confusion filled Malfoy's eyes. "It took me and...and Cedric to a graveyard where Voldemort was getting his body back. It, er...so no. I didn't put my name in the Goblet."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Harry tried to push aside the images stirring in his mind at the memory. Malfoy looked as though he had swallowed something foul.

"Sorry," Malfoy said, voice slightly hoarse. "I didn't mean to bring that up. I...I didn't know."

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and smiled bracingly. "It's alright. The point is, I do get it, wanting to avoid everyone looking and talking. Although I never thought to duck in here to hide."

Malfoy's brows knitted together. "I'm not hiding."

"Mmm...you kind of are." Harry grinned. "Can't blame you, but you also don't have to."

Malfoy didn't answer, eyes downcast. Feeling brave, Harry took another tiny step closer directly into Malfoy's personal space. Harry reached up with his free hand and gently bumped Malfoy's chin, silently requesting those eyes. Confusion, sorrow, and fear swam there, breaking Harry's heart.

"Come on," he said softly. "Let's go warm up properly."

Doubt flickered among the emotions in Malfoy's eyes.

"And if anyone says anything, you and I are good enough wizards that we can kick their arses no problem."

That brought out a smile. Harry's chest flared. Victory.

* * *

What possessed Draco to accept Potter's offer of a drink at the Three Broomsticks was nearly beyond him. Nearly. Draco looked down at Potter's hand that led him out of the shop. Damned Potter.

They stepped out onto the street and a fierce wind slammed the door closed behind hem, whipping their cloaks into a frenzy. Draco pulled his hand from Potter's in a vain effort to keep himself warm, crossing his arms and bowing his head against the wind.

"C'mon," Potter's muffled voice said in his ear.

The Three Broomsticks wasn't nearly as busy as Draco had expected it would be. With the freezing cold, he had thought the pub would be packed with villagers and students alike trying to keep warm. But as the windows rattled violently against the oncoming storm, Draco remembered that most of the students had chosen to stay at the castle that trip and that the villagers likely would have done the same in their homes.

But, scarce as the customers were compared to the norm, Draco still felt eyes on him as he followed Potter into the pub. Potter was removing his hat, scarf, and mittens as he walked, but Draco kept his on, not wanting to draw even more attention to himself.

"Harry!"

Draco's chest constricted at the sound of Weasley's voice, a stark reminder of the last time he had really heard it, lying in Potter's bed.

He shook his head.

Potter led Draco over to the table that Weasley and Granger were sharing. A nearby table held half a dozen other Gryffindors that Draco knew to be friendly with Potter, and he was glad that they seemed too distracted by their own conversations to look over just then. Potter dropped into the seat beside Weasley, leaving Draco to sit down between Potter and Granger.

To his surprise, Granger smiled at him.

"Where've you-" Weasley began, but he stopped short when he caught Draco's eye. It would have been humorous, Weasley looking as though he had been struck over the head with a club, had Draco not been so worried about how badly the redhead would react. A tense silence blanketed the table.

"I'll order us another round of Butterbeers, shall I?" Granger offered after a moment. Weasley just continued to look between Draco and Potter.

"Yes, that sounds great, Hermione," Potter answered. "Need help?"

"No," Granger said sharply. "Thank you, but no. I'll be right back."

It was the longest two minutes Draco had endured in some time. No one spoke, Weasley's bewildered stare morphing into a confused glare that still jumped between Draco and Potter. Draco swallowed dryly and took a deep breath. He clasped his hands together to keep from shaking. When his inhales began to silently stutter, Draco felt a hand rest on his knee under the table.

Draco glanced at him, but Potter was still looking at Weasley as though trying to hold a conversation with just their eyes. If only wanting something to do, Draco removed his cap and mittens, setting them on the table.

"Here we are!" Granger said when she finally returned. Four Butterbeers slid onto the table as she climbed back into her seat.

They each took one, Draco and Potter both immediately taking long drinks. Draco shivered slightly at the warmth. Awkward silence filled the table as they all seemed to be glancing at one another, daring someone to break it.

Granger spoke first, the casualness sounding incredibly forced. "So, Malfoy. Er...Draco." She licked her lips and glanced at Weasley, whose eyes grew wide. "I saw you go into Tomes and Scrolls. Do you, uh, did you find what you were looking for?"

"I, uhm...I was just looking," Draco said breathlessly, looking at the table.

"Looking for anything in particular?"

"No, not really."

"Oh."

Silence took them again. Potter's hand gently squeezed Draco's knee. His heartrate was quickening and Draco took a clumsy gulp of his Butterbeer in a weak attempt to calm it. He felt as though he were failing some sort of test, drowning at an unnamed trial for which he hadn't prepared. Granger had been trying to be friendly and he had simply failed to return the gesture in his panic.

Potter set his mug down. "So what-"

"Let's cut the crap," Weasley interrupted, face already turning a fine shade of magenta. "What're you thinking, Harry?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Potter answered coolly, eyes narrowing.

"Look, I get it, you don't want anyone to die anymore, and no one said anything when you wanted to make sure he was alright." Weasley gestured sharply at Draco, not even bothering to look at him anymore. The neighboring table of Gryffindors stopped the bulk of their talking to watch as Weasley's voice grew louder, angrier. "But then you start hanging around him in between lessons, meeting up in the library, and you know what? Whatever. You want to keep playing hero and try to keep everyone happy and safe? Whatever. But you're taking it too far when you bring him around us on the weekends."

A very pregnant pause followed Weasley's words. Draco couldn't bring himself to look up from staring at the table, not really seeing it. The thumb on his knee began to rub his leg softly, reassuring.

"I wasn't aware that my choice of friends was up for debate."

Weasley glowered. "It's not about your friends, because Malfoy certainly isn't one of them."

"You think you have a right to tell me who to hang around with?"

"Well, someone ought to, since you apparently think that this," Weasley again gestured furiously at Draco, "is anything but wrong."

"And what makes it wrong?" Potter growled. "Just because you can't get your head out of your arse long enough to move forward doesn't mean that we all can't."

Weasley slammed a fist on the table, shaking the mugs and drawing the rest of the pub's attention to their table. "Oh, quit being so high and mighty! If you weren't so stuck on being the poster boy of love and peace or whatever, you'd wish he'd just off himself, too!"

"Ron!" Granger's voice was strangled, horrified and livid.

Draco's knee felt cold as Potter stood abruptly, his hand going with him to whip out his wand. "Take that back."

Weasley glared back as he, too, stood and drew his wand. "Which part? The part about you being a fame-hungry prat or the part about how worthless of a piece of rubbish Malfoy is?"

Potter raised his wand, but Draco was somehow quicker. He reached out and grabbed Potter's wrist, stopping him from whatever spell he was about to cast. Potter's eyes turned to meet his, anger dancing there and making Draco's breath catch even more.

"It's...it's not..." Draco's voice was only a raspy whisper, slipping out between gasps for air. He knew he was beginning to shake harder and he withdrew his hand. "Don't. Please. Not...not for me."

"But-"

"What the bloody hell is this?" Weasley practically screamed, apparently reaching some kind of limit. "He some kind of faggot, too? Merlin, Harry, what the hell are you even doing trying to save this?"

Unlike the scenario in his own common room, Draco flinched at the derogatory term. He wasn't exactly a favorite of the Slytherin House, but here among mostly Gryffindors, Draco had the distinct sensation of being deep in enemy territory, totally exposed. Panic was quickly taking him over. He openly gasped for air.

There was an uproar at the nearby Gryffindor table, and Draco's heartrate easily doubled. Sense couldn't be made from the shouts that erupted, but Draco knew fury when he heard it.

Potter reached for Draco, but the hand frightened him. Draco nearly fell backwards onto the floor as he scrambled from his seat.

"Malfoy, wait-"

But Draco didn't want to hear whatever it was Potter had to say. Draco had done enough.

With a last, terrified look at Potter, Draco turned and sprinted from the pub.

\---

Hours and hours later, Draco sat on the ledge of the Astronomy Tower, leaning over the edge again. The grounds directly below the tower were a dark blur on their own, but Draco's tears were making it worse.

He hadn't truly cried in ages, the last time likely being when he had been struggling with fixing the Vanishing Cabinet his sixth year. Somewhere between the horrors that had unraveled from Dumbledore's death and onward, Draco had seemed to dry up entirely.

But now, as he sat perched on the edge of the tower, wind stinging his cheeks and whipping through his hair, Draco had finally found some tears to shed. He blinked, and the first drop fell onto his cheek. It turned to ice almost instantly as the wind hit him again. The promised blizzard had dissipated, it seemed, leaving an angry cold that hadn't the strength to cover the earth in any more snow. Draco could understand the feeling.

_"If you weren't so stuck on being the poster boy of love and peace or whatever, you'd wish he's just off himself, too!"_

More tears fell. Draco gripped the tower's ledge harder with his numbed fingers and white knuckles as gentle sobs shook his body alongside the shaking the cold had brought him.

Draco never thought Weasley was particularly bright, but this time he had hit the nail on the head. Whatever Draco may have been daring to hope in the past couple weeks, Potter was just being a hero again. Whatever Draco had been daring to believe, he actually didn't deserve to breathe anymore.

Tears falling freely now, Draco looked down to the grounds far below his dangling feet.

* * *

Harry stepped quietly around the corner that gave way to the Astronomy Tower steps. Professor Carraway, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, was on nighttime patrol that evening, and she apparently took her position far more seriously than the other teachers. She prowled without a lantern, keeping quiet as she crept around the school, making it hard to listen for her and avoid detection. Harry had seen her a corridor or two away and only just passed her without raising the alarm.

_"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"_

_"With me?" Ron shouted, face brick red. "I'm not the one trying to be friends with Malfoy!"_

Harry clenched his teeth as he began a quiet ascent to the top of the tower.

_Harry wanted nothing more than to hex Ron, send him flying across the pub covered in something foul, maybe making him burp up slugs again, but when the pub's door slammed shut behind Malfoy's retreating figure, Harry simply threw Ron a scathing look. He opened his mouth to shout, but Harry was interrupted by Dean Thomas, who was looking just as furious._

_"Who gives a damn who Harry's friends with? How could you say that?"_

_"What?" Ron sputtered. "It matters! It's Malfoy!"_

_"What difference does that make?" Hermione snapped. "You just told someone to their face that they ought to...to kill themselves!"_

_Parvati was there then, lining up with the group that had come over at the commotion. "At least Harry's not some backward bigot like you apparently are!"_

_"I-what?" Ron's shout fell in his confusion._

_"I never took you for a homophobic twat."_

_"I-I-I'm not-" Ron ran his fingers through his hair and looked to Hermione for help. "I'm not homophobic!"_

_But before Hermione could answer, though by the fire in her eyes he was sure he'd have enjoyed the comment, Harry spoke across her to Ron. "You're pathetic."_

_And amidst the chaos that continued, Harry stormed out of the Three Broomsticks himself in search of Malfoy._

He hadn't found him, though. Harry sighed as he neared the top of the tower. He had looked absolutely everywhere he could think, but Malfoy was apparently far faster than he looked, having made it to the castle before Harry could catch him and disappearing into the safe depths of the Slytherin dungeon.

That terror in Malfoy's eyes haunted Harry throughout the day. The way he had quietly pleaded that Harry not defend him _because_ it was him, how he had quivered when Ron started to shout. Anger bubbled in Harry's stomach, but he forced himself to try and relax. He didn't want to be worked up when he found Malfoy. He wanted to be calm so that he could best explain to Malfoy how far from the truth Ron's words were.

Finally reaching the top of the tower, Harry stepped around the small bend that opened to the whole surface. Sure enough, Malfoy was there, staring out over the grounds, sitting on the ledge.

Too far on the ledge.

Chest leaning over.

Hands letting go of the stone.

Terror seized Harry, springing him into action. He lunged across the tower, crossing the surface in barely a second. His arms thrust forward and wrapped around Malfoy's chest. For one terrible moment, Harry thought his momentum would send them both tumbling over the ledge, but he was able to plant his feet and swing himself back, dragging Malfoy with him. In his desperation, Harry had thrown his entire body into the action and the force sent him crashing painfully into the stone floor, sliding him a few feet as Malfoy's body crashed on top of his with a surprised grunt.

Harry's head smacked the floor, sending fireworks erupting in his vision, but he blinked them away as he twisted himself and pulled at Malfoy's robes so that they were both upright. When Harry finally came face to face with Malfoy, his heart stopped.

Tears covered Malfoy's face and filled his eyes.

"What the-" Harry gasped, then he pulled Malfoy in for a fierce hug. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Malfoy's arms didn't lift to return the embrace as Harry buried his head into the other's neck, arms tight against his back. Harry breathed in the soft pine that was embedded in Malfoy's clothing, trying to calm himself as the thought of what would have happened if he hadn't come out that night filled his head.

Harry pulled back to search Malfoy's face, but Malfoy's head was bowed, his shoulders shaking. It took Harry a moment to realize that he was crying.

"Malfoy?"

The crying continued.

"Malfoy...Draco," Harry said, the name on his tongue feeling strange. Strange but...nice.

A hiccup stopped the growing sobs for a moment, enough for Draco to finally lift his eyes to meet Harry's. Harry tried to offer a smile but Draco's lips only trembled as he began to cry again.

"Hey," Harry shushed, pulling Draco back into his arms. Draco dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder as Harry rubbed his back. Finally, hesitantly, Draco brought his arms up and held onto Harry's robes as though his life depended on it.

In a way, Harry thought, it kind of did.

"Please...please don't," Harry said into Draco's ear. "Ron's...he's a...nothing he said was true, Draco. No one wants...no one _ever_ -"

He stopped as Draco gave a watery scoff.

"Okay, no one who matters," Harry amended. "No one in the pub, for sure. I wish you'd have stayed a bit longer. No one thought Ron was in line with...with what he said. So please...don't. Ever."

 _ **Several**_ moments passed as they sat there, centered at the top of the Astronomy Tower in each other's arms. Harry continued to rub Draco's back as the sobs subsided, turning into soft sniffs and tired breaths.

"You're just trying to save me," Draco croaked after some time. "Aren't you? Just some pathetic former Death Eater queer that can't even stop himself from being blown up by a couple of kids. The perfect project."

Harry's heart hurt at the self-loathing in Draco's voice. He pulled back to look Draco in the eye, wanting to make sure he did this right. Tears still covered Draco's cheeks, and Harry brought his hands up to cup Draco's face, his thumbs swiping across the skin there to wipe away the tears.

"As much as everyone keeps trying to say that," Harry said firmly, his hands holding Draco's face. "I am not just trying to save you. I have better things to do than try to save someone I don't like or don't think deserves it."

Despair filled Draco's eyes and Harry's thumbs wiped at his cheeks once more.

"Which," Harry continued, hands gentle as he cradled Draco's face, "is why, no, I am not just trying to save you. I'm trying to be your...your friend because I know you deserve a second chance, because I do like you, because I know you are allowed to be happy."

Hope, tentatively breaking through the raging waves of complete despair, peaked in Draco's eyes, and Harry found himself leaning into the short distance between them.

Soft footfalls echoed in the stairwell behind Harry, and they both froze. Hardly an inch separated their faces.

Carraway.

As silently as possible, Harry and Draco scrambled to their feet as the footsteps grew louder. Harry's eyes darted around the tower, looking for a possible place to hide. Unfortunately, it was a totally open space.

"Damn," Harry whispered.

Draco grabbed him by the shoulder and drug him over to the staircase entrance. Where Carraway was due to appear any second.

"Are you mad?" Harry hissed as Draco shoved him quietly against the wall. Draco slapped a hand across Harry's mouth.

They only had to wait a few seconds.

Professor Carraway stepped onto the tower, deliberately trodding carefully to avoid making too much noise. Capable as she obviously was, she had developed a reputation of being an unnecessarily strict teacher, and it carried over into her nighttime patrols if the determined gleam in her eye was anything to go by.

Harry held his breath as she stepped onto the tower, not seeing them as she focused on the scene before her. It was absolutely mad, but Draco's plan looked as though it just might work. Draco nodded to the staircase and they tiptoed over, around the corner, and onto the stairs.

It only took about ten stairs before Harry tripped on his cloak.

He fell forward and smacked the wall to catch himself, sending an echoing slap reverberating up the tower.

"I knew it!" Professor Carraway called from above them.

"Damn."

"Run!" Draco hissed.

Harry sprinted after Draco down the spiraling staircase, skipping two stairs at a time without pausing to marvel at how he didn't fall flat on his face. Draco hit the corridor first, veering left, and Harry followed. Carraway wasn't far behind, coming down the stairs before they could round the next corner. At least it was dark.

" _Lumos Maxima_!" Harry heard her call, and his heart sank.

They turned the corner, and though Draco made to continue down the corridor, Harry knew this particular part of the castle well and grabbed Draco's hand, dragging him to a nondescript door on the right that he knew to be a broom closet. Harry ripped the door open, threw Draco inside before following suit, carefully pulling the door closed behind him so as not to make a sound. When the latch clicked quietly beneath the sound of Carraway's fast approaching footsteps, Harry pulled out his wand.

" _Colloportus_ ," he breathed at the door.

As Harry put his wand away, he hardly dared to breathe as Carraway drew closer, her wandlight casting shadows through the crack under the door as she checked the doors along the corridor. Harry's chest was pressed against Draco, who was leaning against the back of the tiny closet with his hands up as though in surrender, palms barely touching Harry's shoulders. When Harry turned his head forward and away from the door, his nose bumped Draco's.

Draco gasped softly. Heart fluttering in anticipation, Harry brought his hands up and rested them on Draco's waist, the closet only just affording him enough room to do so. They breathed into the minuscule space between them, neither moving but for the rising and falling of their chests.

The doorknob rattled at Harry's back, though it only stirred vague alarm as he sensed rather than saw Draco lick his lips.

"Blasted kids," Carraway muttered, her voice clear through the thin door. "Too damn fast."

Harry pressed his forehead to Draco's as Carraway's footsteps began to fade down the corridor and out of earshot. When it seemed as though she had truly gone, Harry spoke, voice barely audible.

"That was close."

Draco nodded marginally, his nose bumping Harry's. "Pretty damn close, yeah."

Harry's heart was hammering, either from the sprinting or his proximity with Draco, he didn't know or particularly care. There was so much that could go wrong, but Gryffindors were brave and bold, even when they ought not to be. And it was that bravery and boldness that pushed Harry to lean forward and close the gap between his lips and Draco's.

Bliss.

Though Harry had intentionally not given much thought to the fact that he had feelings for a man, it had crossed his mind at one point or another how he might feel about kissing one. Surely lips between men and women were different? But as pure pleasure exploded in his chest, pooling as a deep heat in his abdomen, at the feel of Draco's lips moving in time against his, slightly chapped but soft, Harry wasn't sure why he had ever thought kissing a man would be any different than when he had kissed Ginny or Cho.

Draco's hands fell onto Harry's shoulders as Harry pushed deeper into the kiss, his own hands pulling Draco's waist flush against him. Hands drifted into Harry's hair and on his neck, cradling his face. They were tentative at first, unsure, though when Harry snaked his arms around Draco's back to hold him more firmly, the hands became more certain, more insistent as they pulled Harry closer.

Pure bliss.

Harry poured as much as he could into the kiss. He tried to tell Draco with his lips that he deserved every ounce of kindness he found, deserved every chance he was given, deserved _this_. Harry slid his hand up Draco's back and into his hair, desperate for more, desperate for everything. When their hips lined up without warning, sliding equally excited parts of them both together, Harry moaned softly into Draco's gasp.

"H-Harry."

Pleasure rumbled in Harry's chest at his name on Draco's lips, and he pressed in closer, sliding his tongue into Draco's mouth.

"F-fuck, Harry, wait."

Harry pulled back, trying to find Draco's eyes in the darkness of the closet. They were both panting, and Harry could feel Draco's body trembling slightly against his.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

"We..." Draco swallowed. "We should get back to our dormitories...before...before Carraway comes back."

Hurt flickered through the blind pleasure that had taken Harry hold. But even in his haze, he could hear Draco's own hesitation at his suggestion. Harry didn't want to push Draco, though, and he let his hand fall from Draco's hair and came back around his waist.

"Come with me."

"What?"

"Back to my dormitory," Harry said. "Admit it, you slept better there than you have all year. Nothing weird. Just...you need sleep."

Draco breathed a laugh. "Somehow, I don't think that's all that's on your mind."

"Really," Harry insisted. "Come on, I'm not going to molest you. Tomorrow's Sunday, we've got nowhere to be. No one will bother us, and I've got the invisibility cloak when you want to leave. And if you don't sleep just as good as you did before, then...well, then you don't have to come back again. And you can rub it in my face."

Harry waited as Draco seemed to think it over, his hands gently running through Harry's hair. In the darkness, Harry unabashedly closed his eyes and savored the touch.

"Alright then."

A huge smile spread across Harry's face. "Alright then."


	12. Chapter 12

Morning light tickled at the edge of Draco's consciousness, poking its way into his closed eyes and causing him to stir. He groaned inwardly at the slumber in his body that tried to fight his waking, finally cracking open an eye. Red surrounded him, a harsh change from the usual bottle green that met him in the mornings, and a mop of wild black hair sat at his shoulder, its owner breathing into his neck.

Harry was curled around Draco, partially on his stomach and partially on top of Draco's chest with an arm thrown across him. One of Draco's arms was trapped beneath Harry's body, the other resting on the hand that Harry was using to grip Draco's shirt. Their legs were a hopeless tangle, reminiscent of the last time Draco had woken in Gryffindor Tower. But this time, panic and confusion didn't attack him, but rather he was lifted from sleep by a calm, lazy contentedness.

Being so late and walking off the high of what had happened in the broom closet, when Draco and Harry crept into the Gryffindor seventh year dormitory they had both been exhausted. They hadn't exchanged a word, silently stripping down to undershirts and changing into pajama pants, Harry wordlessly offering a pair to Draco, before climbing into the bed. Harry had taken the time to Freeze the curtains again, though Draco had sleepily wondered if it was necessary. He didn't know the details of what had happened in the Three Broomsticks after he had left, but Draco was sure that Harry and Weasley had a rather nasty row. It didn't seem likely that Weasley would bother them as he had before.

Regardless, Harry had made sure of their privacy before lying back and pulling Draco into his side, where Draco had almost immediately fallen asleep.

Harry was right. Draco did seem to sleep better there than his own bed.

A soft grunt twitched Harry's chest. Draco glanced down at the face on his shoulder. After a moment of slow squirming, Harry's eyes fluttered open, glazed over from sleep. He looked up at Draco and smiled lazily before leaning up and pressing a small kiss to Draco's lips.

Instinctively, Draco froze, but before he could kiss back, Harry pulled away. Confusion clouded his sleepy eyes.

"'S'at still 'lright?" he mumbled, trying to blink away the sleep.

Draco nodded. "Yeah, just...still new. I wasn't ready."

Harry nodded back, lying his head on the pillow beside Draco. After a moment, he laughed softly. "You know, if someone had told me a few months ago that I'd be happily sharing a bed, twice, with Draco Malfoy and snogging him in some broom closet, I'd have probably hexed them on the spot. Funny how things change, mm?"

"What did?"

"Mmm?"

Draco looked over and found Harry taking slow, long blinks. He obviously wasn't much of a morning person.

"What changed?" Draco asked.

"Mm," Harry hummed, forcing his eyes open completely and taking a sharp breath. "Mostly, the war, I suppose. But I think a lot of it was just...me growing up. Moving past childish rivalries and seeing you as a real person, not just someone to satisfy my need for drama."

He chuckled when Draco rolled his eyes.

"At one point, I shared a mind with Voldemort." Draco snapped his eyes back to Harry. "Not all the time, but usually when I slept, I could see through his eyes. And more than once...I saw you. The look that was always on your face wasn't something you wear if you're thrilled about what's going on around you. I couldn't get that look out of my head. There was no way you were as evil as I always made you out to be."

Draco closed his eyes against the conversation. This wasn't what he had planned when he asked Harry what had changed.

"Still a git, mind you," Harry continued, and Draco saw a smile playing at his lips. "But definitely not evil. Besides, things were obviously different this year. Took barely a day to see that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for one, you didn't hunt me down on the train to call me names."

"Wow, okay."

"And for another, you were alone." Harry's smile fell. "You kept your head down, didn't talk, didn't show up for meals. It was just different. And especially finding out about people attacking you in the corridors and you were just taking it...I couldn't ignore that. That has stopped, right?"

Draco nodded. "Outside of some name-calling in the corridors, yeah. Nothing."

"Good." Harry sighed. "You know, everything aside...the war, seeing you through Voldemort, how things were this year...you got to admit, there's always been a spark between us."

Draco laughed at that. "I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure we actively hated each other for seven years."

"Well, yeah. We always brought out the worst in each other. Still a spark, though. It's hard not to wonder if maybe, if things had gone a bit differently the first time we met, if we couldn't have been friends."

"Friends?" Draco scoffed. "I was far too much of a spoiled brat to have been anyone's friend back then."

"Except the whole Slytherin House."

"Well..." Draco sighed, looking at the canopy above them. "I may have thought we were friends at the time, but looking back...I don't think I've ever really had a friend. I think I had a fan club. I was overly confident and I was one of the first people to treat the famous Harry Potter like he was rubbish. I think they just wanted someone to rally behind." Draco's eyes fell to his hand still over Harry's, still on his chest. "I...I never really could talk to any of them. I never really had anyone like that. I suppose it's just what I get for being a pretentious prat, but still."

He had never admitted it out loud. Draco hadn't anyone to tell that he suspected that, of all those that he surrounded himself with all those years, not one had ever truly been his friend. It was humiliating, but nothing more than he deserved. Draco's adolescent years at Hogwarts were just a seven-year cringe.

The hand in Draco's pulled back, coming to his chin and turning his face to Harry's. Green eyes looked at him, filling his vision as Harry leaned in a pressed his lips to Draco's. This time, Draco melted into the kiss instantly, kissing back just as gently as Harry's hand was on his cheek.

Far before Draco was ready, Harry pulled away. His hand still rested on Draco's cheek.

"Look, I know...I know things have been a huge mess for both of us in the past, but let's stop living in it. Can you stop punishing yourself for what's happened and start moving forward?" Harry swallowed. "With...with me?"

"That has to be the most cliche thing I think I've ever heard you say."

"I'm serious, Draco."

Hearing his name in Harry's voice made his heart skip a beat. It sounded foreign but so _right_. But even so, Draco shook his head sadly.

"I'd like to," he said. "I really would. But...I just can't stop reliving my worst memories. It's hardly even up to me."

To his surprise, Harry nodded. "Yeah. I still have nightmares from as far as before I came to Hogwarts. Most nights, I barely sleep because of it. Except, of course, the two times I had you here."

Draco smiled. It was the same thing for him. Something about the safety that came with his nights beside Harry quelled Draco's nightmares and allowed him uninterrupted sleep. It was the most beautiful thing, something precious.

The mattress beneath Draco shifted as Harry twisted and propped himself up on an elbow to look down at Draco.

"Well, maybe together we can do a little better at moving on than we have alone."

"I take it back. _That_ was the most cliche things I've ever heard you say."

Nodding and smiling, Harry didn't answer, instead choosing to lean down and press his lips to Draco's. It was chaste and gentle. Harry's hand came back to Draco's cheek, just as soft and sweet as he rubbed the skin there. Unexpected tears sprung up in Draco's closed eyes. There was so much emotion in everything Harry was doing, so much that Draco could feel pouring into him at their points of contact. A whimper slipped out of his throat, causing Harry to break the kiss, eyes concerned.

"Are you okay?"

His tears hadn't pooled enough to fall, and Draco blinked rapidly to prevent them from doing so as he shook his head. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve to be happy."

"I thought we weren't living in the past anymore?" Harry asked gently.

"It's not just that, I-" Draco rubbed his face, not wanting to look Harry in the eye as he confessed, "What if you're still just trying to save me, or this is all one terribly drawn out joke to break me in the worst possible way? I-" His breath hitched as his heart began to race. "I don't think-I can't take-"

"Hey hey hey, whoa," Harry interrupted. Draco chanced a look and found Harry was shaking his head. "Look...I get it. Kind of. I can understand, at least. But Draco...this isn't some sick joke. Gryffindors hardly have the patience or acting skills to pull off something so elaborate, especially me.

"And, if you and everyone else just have to keep calling me a saving-everyone-person," Harry continued, sounding mildly annoyed, "then yes, in a way, I'm trying to save you. But honestly, my wanting to save you is far less noble and more selfish than anyone I've tried to save before."

"How is wanting to save anyone selfish?"

Harry laughed. "Because I just want you all to myself."

Pleasure flushed throughout Draco at that, and when Harry leaned down to kiss him again, Draco threw his arms around Harry's shoulders, pulling him against his chest. Draco deepened the kiss, pushing his face upward and seeming to catch Harry off guard. But he quickly adapted, placing one hand on the bed next to Draco's head, the other gripping at the base of his skull, fingers tangled in his hair. When Harry tentatively swiped his tongue across Draco's lips, Draco gasped softly, allowing Harry entrance.

It was so much more pleasurable than when Pansy had more or less drooled into his mouth. Harry's tongue glided gently across Draco's as though asking permission to continue, and it didn't take long for Draco to catch on and begin a desperate battle for dominance. Draco breathed in through his nose deeply, breathing every bit of Harry he could, his heart aching for it.

Harry lifted up and threw his leg over Draco, climbing on top of him. Draco was absorbed in their lips and was taken completely by surprise when Harry carefully lowered his hips to Draco's and their bodies pressed together. Pleasure erupted in Draco's groin as Harry's own erection slid against Draco's through their bed clothes. A moan escaped him, mingling with Harry's own as they kissed. Instinctively, Draco thrust his hips up, seeking that friction.

A breathy laugh from Harry hit Draco's lips, and his eyes snapped open in alarm as Harry panted against him, a wide smile on his lips.

"Wh-"

"Sorry," Harry mumbled against Draco's lips, kissing him between words. "I just...there is no...possible...way...that someone...could fake this."

The panic that had flared briefly in Draco's chest dissolved and he reached up to smack the back of Harry's head. "You prat."

But Harry just laughed as he kissed Draco again, pressing his hips downward, sliding their erections together once more, and Draco was left with no other choice but to give into the sensations that were setting his body on fire.

A hand crept under Draco's shirt at his waist, trailing up his side and onto his chest. Harry's fingers were like lightning on Draco's skin. He quickly found his way under Harry's shirt, grabbing at the skin of his back and pulling him closer. But Harry pulled his body away slightly, causing a whimper at Draco's mouth, though when Harry's hand on his chest began to trickle down his front, deep satisfaction mixed with anticipation overtook Draco's disappointment. Harry's finger tickled the skin below Draco's belly button, then cautiously hooked into the waistband of Draco's pants.

Gasping and stuttering for breath, Draco jumped as though burned. Harry leapt back, hand pulling away and eyes widening in alarm. For a moment, they sat there, Draco on his back and propped up on his elbows, Harry straddling him and leaning back, both breathing heavily.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Harry panted. "I didn't mean-I didn't-"

"No, don't," Draco said, just as breathless. "Nothing you did, I just...I've never..."

Harry's eyes grew wider in understanding. "Oh. Oh, right."

"Uh...have you?" Draco immediately regretted asking. There was no possible way that this was the right time or place to have asked that particular question.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. "Er...not...not anything with a guy." He flushed, and Draco looked away, only regretting his question even more. "But even with...with a girl, it never got far. No...er...actual sex, at least."

"Right."

A loud silence followed. Draco's entire body was hot and he was still sporting a raging erection that was distinctly disappointed at the turn of events. Much to his satisfaction and mortification, Draco saw that Harry, at least physically, was in the same situation.

"Look," Harry said, and Draco forced himself to look into his eyes. "It's fine, really. We can stop, take it slow, whatever you want. Whatever you're comfortable with. I mean...I mean, this is still new territory for me, too. It wouldn't hurt us to slow down a bit."

It had to be the kindest offer Draco had ever been given, especially given the seriousness of Harry's tone. No doubt lingered in those green eyes. Harry was truly prepared to do whatever it took to keep Draco from being uncomfortable. Draco took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to lunge forward and make a rash decision, and nodded.

"I...I think it'd be best not to rush anything."

A warmth filled Draco's chest that had nothing to do with lust when Harry smiled at his words. He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss to Draco's forehead, then flopped onto his back on the mattress.

"I suppose we ought to get moving, then, hm?" Harry asked.

"Probably. Who knows what time it may be."

"It's Sunday, Draco. Doesn't matter."

Draco shrugged and stood beside the bed, careful not to bump the Frozen curtains as he began to dress. "Regardless, I'm hungry and desperately need a shower."

Harry lifted his head and raised his brows. "You, hungry? I ought to alert the _Prophet_."

"Ha ha. Very witty."

"I do have a way with words."

"I seriously doubt that."

They fell into a contented silence as Harry also began to dress, and by the time they were both fully clothed and Draco had the invisibility cloak thrown over him, both were breathing normally again.

* * *

Harry wasn't disappointed, exactly. He just wished he had been able to take things a bit further. But as he led an invisible Draco out of Gryffindor Tower, Harry had to admit that he was feeling a bit tensed from such a passionate wake up call with no release.

Oh well, Harry thought as he pushed the portrait hole open. That was what showers were for on a lazy Sunday.

"There you are, Harry."

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin at Hermione's voice in his ear. The portrait hole closed, and Harry realized that he had nearly run smack into Hermione as she had made to enter the common room. She looked exhausted.

"Have you been asleep this whole time?" she asked, brows knitting together in surprise. "It's nearly lunchtime. I was starting to get worried."

"Oh, sorry," he said as he inched around her. "Just a good night's rest is all."

"Well, I'm glad I found you." Hermione turned and walked alongside Harry down the corridor, much to his horror. He wasn't sure how he could shake her to relieve Draco, and he wasn't sure he wanted Draco to hear whatever Hermione might have to say about the previous day.

"Look, I-"

"Have you seen Malfoy?"

"What?"

"Malfoy," Hermione repeated. "Have you seen him?"

"Oh...yeah. Saw him last night."

"How is he?"

"Fine. He's good. Why?"

Hermione gave him a peculiar look. "Well...after what happened yesterday, I was worried."

"Oh?"

"Of course!" She sounded annoyed. "After those awful things Ron said to him...I can only imagine what kind of regrets Malfoy's having these days, and with what we know other students have been doing to him in between lessons and who knows what else...I didn't know how close to the truth Ron's words might have been for him."

An enormous surge of affection for Hermione rushed over Harry, and he let his shoulders relax as they walked. He wondered if and hoped that Draco was still beside them.

"After you left," she continued, yawning into her hand, "the others kept into Ron for a bit until he took off himself. I went with him, of course, but we just shouted the whole way back to the castle. When he stormed off on me in the entrance hall, I went looking for Malfoy myself."

"Really?"

"Yes, really! Malfoy and I have never gotten along, but I didn't want him to think we all want him dead! Besides," she said, losing some of her edge, "if you can be friends with Malfoy after everything, it's pathetic to think that we can't all to the same. Especially if you...well, if you pursue your feelings for him."

Heat filled Harry's cheeks, though he wasn't sure if it was caused by Draco hearing that Harry had told Hermione about his feelings for him or if Harry was just thinking about the morning they had shared.

"But you saw him last night?" Hermione persisted.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said lamely. "He, er, well, he was upset, but we...we talked a bit and he's doing alright now."

An invisible hand touched Harry's lower back, sending a wave of butterflies through his stomach.

"That's good," Hermione said.

"Er..." Harry couldn't very well just abandon Hermione at this point. Not after she had gone so far for Draco on Harry's behalf. He asked, "So...where's Ron?"

Hurt filled Hermione's eyes. "Well, I haven't seen him since we had our row yesterday, but Dean and Seamus said that he was in the dormitory last night. I just...oh, he can be just horrible sometimes, but I'd rather not...I don't really..."

Hermione was biting her lip, tears forming in her eyes. Harry gently grabbed her arm, bringing them to a stop in the empty corridor.

"I don't want that, either," he said, and he meant it. "Ron really is a gormless idiot sometimes, but I know he cares about you."

"He doesn't really mean those things, you know." She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. "He just lets his emotions get away from him sometimes. You and I know him better than anyone. You know he doesn't really wish Malfoy were dead, right?"

Overly aware that Draco was somewhere right beside him, Harry sighed. "I know that, Hermione, but how do you explain that to someone else? To Draco?"

"I don't know, and quite honestly, it's not even something I should be explaining." Hermione wiped her eyes again, looking less upset when her hands fell to her sides. "Ron will have to do that himself, and he's going to do it to Malfoy's face if he'll have him. Then it'll be up to Malfoy if he wants to forgive him or not."

Harry grinned. "That's a conversation I'd like to see."

"Oh, we'll see it alright," Hermione said with a grin of her own. "I'll see to that."

"Look, there's something I need to do before lunch. Can I meet you there in..." He checked his watch. "...let's say a half hour?"

"Sure thing."

He watched her disappear down the corridor and onto a staircase, then looked around. They seemed quite alone.

"Draco?" he whispered. "You still there?"

To his left, the air shifted slightly as Draco appeared there, cloak in hand.

"See? It's not just me, and Hermione has only once been accused of trying to save someone."

A small, hopeful smile tugged at Draco's lips. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Harry stepped closer. "You should've heard the whole pub defending you after you left. I think, if you just listen, you'll find that it's not just me trying to move forward, Draco."

"Maybe," Draco said again. But as he stepped away and left Harry with his cloak, waving a goodbye over his shoulder, Harry felt confident that things were going to start looking up.


	13. Chapter 13

"You know, I didn't take you to be gay."

It was Monday, and the seventh years were having an unusually lax Herbology lesson. The only objective for the hour was to keep the Clamor Betas, a rather angry shrub that growled loudly when left alone in their childhood, entertained. Professor Sprout's stock left the class breaking into pairs and spreading out around the greenhouse to try different methods of keeping the little shrubs happy. In the commotion that the grumpy Clamor Betas were causing, it made easy for private conversation.

Harry shrugged as he offered a quill to their shrub. "Well, I can't say that girls are repulsive or anything. Maybe I like both. I hear there's a term for that now."

The shrub curled a branch around the quill and quieted. Draco rolled his eyes. "I meant that you didn't strike me as the type to like men is all."

"Well, you didn't seem the type to me, either. I don't really think it's something you can tell just by looking at a person."

"No, I suppose not." Draco eyed Harry as he tentatively stroked a leaf. "But you dated, right? Had plenty of girls before...this."

Harry laughed. "'Plenty of girls'? I dated two, and I wouldn't even count the first one. Bloody nightmare, she was. Always crying, and I could never say the right thing. Besides, weren't you with Pansy for like...four years or something equally outrageous?"

"Uh...no. I deliberately avoided it, even though she really wanted to."

"Oh. Because you knew you were gay, or...?"

"No, I didn't know that until last year," Draco said, shaking his head. The shrub shuttered suddenly, shaking Draco's fingers from it as it further inspected the quill. "I just didn't really like Pansy. Kind of overbearing, overwhelming, she is."

"So you've never even kissed a girl?"

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Technically, I have."

"Technically? That doesn't sound very fun."

"It wasn't."

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

"It was last year, when everything was going to hell here at Hogwarts. I was...a mess for it. Sixth year hadn't been a picnic, either, and I was running on fumes at that point. Pansy...offered to help me relieve some tension. We only got as far as kissing when I vomited all over her."

Harry snorted and Draco shot him a glare. Harry cleared his throat. "Sorry. It just-you vomited on her? She that awful?"

"Well, I thought it was just her at first, but when I thought about kissing another girl, any other girl, the, uh...feeling didn't go away."

Their Clamor Beta snapped its quill in half with a soft crack, then erupted into loud, furious cries. It couldn't move from it's pot, but the fury in its wails and the straining of its roots make it very clear that, if it could, the little shrub would gladly wrap its branches around their throats. Harry dove into his bag in search of something else to give it.

"Damn," he said after a moment. "I think that was my last quill."

"Here, I think I have one." Draco opened his own bag and pulled out a quill to give their charge, but the shrub knocked it away. It's cries grew angrier. And louder.

"Come on, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Sprout called over the noise. "Let's calm that Beta down! Too much stress will spoil the sap!"

Draco looked around their floorspace, searching for anything that could possibly sate the shrub. Somewhat desperately, he offered it a crumpled piece of parchment and was rather pleased when it appeared to be enough. The cries stopped.

"Is there any logic to what keeps them happy?" Harry asked. He was looking across the greenhouse at Weasley and Granger, who were having a whispered conversation across their own, rather content, Clamor Beta.

Draco shrugged. "Not that the textbook or Professor Sprout mentioned. Maybe whatever they're talking about is just interesting."

"Huh?"

"Weasley and Granger."

"Oh." Harry seemed to shake himself and sighed. "Likely just another row."

"I...I'm sorry to be causing so much trouble."

"Don't be. They argued plenty before I decided to get too friendly with you." Harry grinned at him, but as their lesson drew to a close and their shrubs were collected, Draco felt increasingly guilty over the trouble he had caused by simply existing.

Again.

"What has you looking so down?" Luna asked at dinner that evening. Draco had stopped asking her why she chose to sit with him at the meals he attended.

"It's nothing."

"It isn't, but I can respect your need for privacy."

"Uh...thank you."

"Where is Karen?"

Draco looked down the Slytherin table and spotted her among a group of first years. He nodded, and Luna smiled.

"She seems to be making friends better than she originally thought she would."

"She's more outgoing than she thinks she is."

Luna nodded, taking a bite of pork. "Yes, that is how it usually goes. Hermione told me what happened in Hogsmeade this weekend. Ron Weasley is rather cruel at times, isn't he?"

Draco didn't answer, choosing to stare at his mostly untouched plate.

"I do hope his awful comments don't keep you from being friends with Harry, though," Luna said. "It's wonderful that you two have been able to grow so close despite your past differences."

"Uh...yeah. I suppose it is."

* * *

Harry had Draco pinned against the wall of the Owlery, hands pulling Draco's arms above his head as passion brought their lips together. Near-silent moans mingled on their lips as Harry brought his body flush against Draco's, desperate for closeness that couldn't be satisfied. Backs of his hands against the frozen stone above their heads, Draco's fingers wrapped in Harry's as his tongue slid across the other's lips.

A soft gasp parted Draco's lips, and Harry took the invitation without hesitation, his tongue finding Draco's and starting up a mad dance in their mouths. Harry pressed his hips more firmly into Draco, drawing out another moan that sent chills up his spine and causing him to kiss harder, more desperate.

It was pure ecstasy, this pleasure and safety Harry felt with Draco. He had felt it before being able to kiss Draco as he wanted, but now that they had leapt off the precipice that had separated them the past several weeks, Harry was falling fast.

"H-Harry."

Draco's gasping words drew Harry out of his blissful haze, blinking as he pulled his head back just enough to look in the other's eyes. "What?"

"I actually did have a letter I need to send."

Harry laughed and pressed another kiss on Draco's lips, but he reluctantly stepped back, allowing Draco off the wall. They each pulled their cloaks tighter against them, the warmth of their embrace quickly stolen by the winter's harsh wind.

"I thought you had an owl," Harry said as Draco reached out to a large barn owl.

"I did. He, uh...got lost among the mess of last year."

"I know what you mean," Harry replied, his heart panging for Hedwig. "Who're you writing, anyway? Your mum?"

Draco nodded. "I haven't written her since term started. She hasn't written me, either, but I know she's just trying not to bother me."

Harry watched as the barn owl stuck out its leg for Draco to carefully attach his letter. He gave the owl a few gentle strokes, then carried it one of the many windows, where it took to the wind. Draco stood there, watching it fly away.

"I wrote your mum, you know," Harry said suddenly. "After you both...after I heard you were both cleared by the Ministry. I wrote to thank her for lying to Voldemort for me, for saving my life."

Draco nodded but didn't turn around.

"How...how has she been?"

"Fine," Draco said quickly, with a touch of his old pride seeping into his voice. But he sighed after a second and turned around to face Harry fully. "Not well, actually. It was...it was a rough summer, for her especially. She...she didn't take my father's death well."

"And you?" He hadn't meant to ask, and Harry cringed. "I'm sorry, that was-"

"I didn't particularly care."

Harry swallowed, taken aback by the hard tone. "Oh."

"Even before...even before the Dark Lord returned, my father wasn't the best parent," Draco growled at the floor. "Nothing I did was enough. It was just the three of us, and he couldn't bring himself to care enough about us to keep us safe."

"I-"

"He could have turned things around for us, but instead he dragged us through hell, and it was up to my mother to drag us back from it." Bitterness coated every word.

Harry didn't know what to say. From what little he did know about Lucius Malfoy, Draco wasn't necessarily wrong, but it didn't feel right to say so. Instead, Harry crossed the Owlery and took Draco's hand.

"The worst bit is," Draco said quietly, "my mother doesn't even blame me for not being upset over his death. Somehow, that feels even more wrong than my not being sad."

"She must understand, is all." Harry squeezed Draco's hand. "Nothing wrong about that."

"All we have is each other. I ought to have at least pretended to grieve with her. But I let her do it alone."

"I'm sure she wouldn't have wanted you to fake it, Draco."

"Maybe." Draco breathed out, lifting his eyes to meet Harry's. "But I still didn't feel right about leaving her to cry all alone."

Sympathetic pain shot through Harry's heart at the sorrow in Draco's voice, his eyes. Harry hadn't a family in the traditional sense, and he struggled to know exactly what it was that Draco suffered through. Sure, Harry had Mrs. Weasley, but this was something he couldn't quite grasp, not in the same way a true son could. So, without the right words to say, he settled on pulling Draco into his arms, hugging him tightly.

Though their friendship was new, relationship even more so, Harry knew there was a deep understanding that flowed between him and Draco. They hadn't talked or exchanged stories or shared in experiences together, but all those years of dark dislike and rivalry had still afforded them each a certain knowledge of the other's life even outside of Hogwarts. It hadn't been hard to see the luxury that followed Draco like a shadow all those years, and on more than one occasion, Harry had stepped into Draco's world one way or another outside the castle walls. It may not have been friendship that gave him and insight before, but it was that friendship now that let Harry comfort Draco there in the frigid Owlery.

"Nevermind it," Draco said briskly after a few minutes. He drew away from Harry, a small smile on his face. "Can't change things now."

Harry's lips crashed onto Draco's, knocking the latter against the window and nearly sending them toppling out into the snow. Draco grunted in surprise, but Harry's hand wrapped around the back of Draco's head, pulling him in and sealing their lips together as he practically climbed on top of Draco. He thrust his tongue into Draco's mouth, licking furiously until Draco quivered against him with a soft whimper. Harry tangled his fingers in Draco's hair and pulled, tilting Draco's head back just enough to part their lips so Harry could gaze into those pale eyes.

"Wh-what was that for?" Draco asked breathlessly.

Harry smirked, and his voice was raspy with victory as he answered, "That was the first time this term you've brought yourself back."

"Back? Back from what?" Draco's hands fell to Harry's waist, subconsciously pulling on him.

"Back from the past."

"Mmm," Draco hummed, stretching his neck against Harry's grip, trying to kiss him again.

Harry held fast, only allowing their lips to graze. "It's good to hear. Real character development."

"You are completely insufferable."

"Only when I'm right."

At that, Draco laughed. The beautiful, uninhibited contentedness within it yanked at Harry's chest, and he dove in to capture Draco's lips once more.

* * *

"Today's the day!"

Draco looked up from his novel, an epic of a wizard on a journey across China in search of his lost brother, at Slughorn's voice. Harry, his head resting on the desk beside him, didn't stir until Draco kicked him under the table.

"Wassat?"

"The lesson-"

"Quiet, quiet, come on now!" Slughorn shot a look at Draco and Harry. "Your Bliss Potions have fully matured and are officially ready for testing. Or, at least, they will be after some of you add the final ingredient - veritaserum."

The class fell still. Draco frowned. He didn't remember seeing that on the ingredient list.

"Now, this is a rather unusual ingredient, as it is a potion itself, correct? But, as I'm sure some of you remember, it also wasn't listed in the recipe."

Granger's hand flew into the air. "Then why are we adding it, Professor?"

Slughorn grinned. "You see, I'm glad you asked that, Miss Granger, as it leads into the twist for today's lesson!"

Draco didn't like the sound of that. A twist usually ended badly.

"Today we will have a quiz, and the half of the class with the highest marks will be given a sample of those Bliss Potions without the veritaserum and enjoy what is called fantastical bliss. The half of the class with the lower marks will be given a sample of the potions with the veritaserum and will subsequently experience a factual bliss. Now, can anyone enlighten us as to the difference?"

Granger's hand hit the air again.

"But of course. Miss Granger?"

"Fantastical bliss gives the drinker what can be truly called 'pure bliss.' While under the effects of fantastical bliss, the drinker is not shadowed by anything that could possibly tamper their bliss, even when faced with dampers that they normally know to be true. Factual bliss gives the drinker bliss only as far as the truth can take them. It grants a marginally less potent bliss that can be tampered with when faced with dampers. It also keeps them from lying to themselves or others, while fantastical bliss is nearly the opposite, the drinker not being able to tell the truth if it isn't exactly what they or someone else want to hear."

Even after six years of varying classes with Granger, Draco was still impressed by her ability to practically vomit a textbook. Slughorn nodded, looking just as impressed.

"Yes, yes, yes, precisely! So while half of you will be enjoying uninhibited happiness without any worry in the world, the other half of you might have to worry about the pesky real world stopping you from the high of bliss. Now, to decide! Desks clear, quills out!"

Their quiz, merely ten open-ended questions about the most basic differences between potions, draughts, and elixirs, wasn't difficult at all. Draco finished only second to Granger, and when Slughorn took up their parchments, he felt confident that he'd be among the top half of the class. They were then instructed to collect their potions, some of them adding in a few drops of veritaserum. Draco and Harry hadn't been selected to add to their potion, leaving them a few minutes to talk while Slughorn marked their quizzes.

"Why're you so tired?" Draco asked as Harry stifled another yawn.

"Haven't been able to sleep. Have you?"

"Well, no," Draco admitted. He had returned to his own bed since Saturday night, and the sleeplessness had unfortunately returned. "But we both survived well enough on little sleep before. Why're you having trouble now?"

Harry shrugged. "Guess my body was just ready to sleep again. Strange, I know, my body wanting sleep after it got a taste."

"Ha ha."

"Can I get some real sleep tonight, you think?"

Draco swallowed and looked around, though being at their own table. It didn't appear as though anyone had overheard Harry. It had been an unspoken agreement between them after Saturday night that they would keep their on goings quiet and out of view. For Draco, it was to avoid bringing Harry down with him, but he couldn't think of why Harry had always slipped into the arrangement. Likely, he was following Draco's lead. But, late at night when Draco was staring at the wall instead of sleeping, he found himself wondering if maybe...

"Hello? Draco?"

Draco snapped back to the present. "What?"

"I said, 'Can I get some real sleep tonight?'"

"I think that's up to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm asking if we can share a bed again, you idiot."

"My, you're cranky."

"Sorry," Harry said, rubbing his eyes. "I just-"

"Alright, the marks are in!" Slughorn called. "I'll call out those with the higher scores now, and you can lined up to the right on my desk. Those left over, you'll be on the left."

"Yes," Draco whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry beamed sleepily at him.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Macmillan, Miss Harvey, and Miss Kimpler, if you could stand to my right, please."

Draco stood and made his way with the others. Granger stood beside him and smiled up at him.

"Mr. Tuft, Mr. Martinez, Miss Campbell, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, you all will be on my left." Slughorn dropped the pile of parchment on his desk and rubbed his hands together. "Alright, now let's see how well you all brewed up some bliss, shall we?"

Three of the potions brewed had been left alone, which Draco's group was given to test. The other two potions had been laced with the veritaserum, which Harry's group was given. The class stood, vials in their hands for a moment fraught with anticipation before they all drank together as though on cue.

Nothing happened.

"Alright then," Slughorn said, collecting the vials and Vanishing the potions with a wave of his wand. "It should take a few minutes to set in, but before you all are too lost in your varying degrees of bliss - homework! You are to write a paper no less than two feet in length about to effects of your particular batch of the Bliss Potion, along with at least three examples of the differences between fantastical and factual bliss. I know it's rather early, but we'll go ahead and end class for today."

Murmurs broke out among the students as Slughorn dismissed them, but no one seemed to be experiencing anything just yet. Harry met Draco at their desk to collect their things.

"You think we all brewed it incorrectly? I'm not feeling a thing."

Draco shook his head. "No, it just takes a moment to work. I'm sure we'll all be smacked upside the head in a second like Slughorn said and spend the rest of the day grinning like fools."

"It lasts all day?"

"Depends on the dose. With how little we took, I'd say it's more likely to wear off by lunch."

"Good thing it was Double Potions, hm? Nothing to do until then." A lazy smile formed on Harry's face.

As though stepping into the beginnings of a fog, Draco smiled back. They stared at one another, and Draco was struck full force with how absolutely beautiful Harry's eyes were. Bright, vivid green as though they were created from every gorgeous meadow described in poetry and a distinctive almond shape that bordered on exotic. The deep bags that hung below no longer were a sign of deprivation but a battle scar of Harry's strength, and Draco forgot the world as he suddenly reached out and took Harry's hand in his own.

"Thank you," he said, not giving a damn at the hopelessness of the adoration in his voice. "Thank you for wanting to save me. Thank you for not giving up on me."

He leaned, eyelids drooping, seeking only to pour every ounce of affection he had into Harry's lips with his own, but a gentle hand pressed onto his chest, stopping him. Draco opened his eyes and grinned at Harry, who was smiling back regretfully.

"I thought we were keeping the...er...affection private for now."

"I don't care anymore," Draco giggled. "I'd rather just snog you wherever I want."

A laugh bubbled up from Harry's chest, crinkling the skin around those gorgeous eyes. "Much as I agree, I'd rather hear it from you when we're both sober."

Draco tugged on Harry's hand, forcing the other to take a step closer. Draco leaned in to kiss Harry despite his words but the hand on his chest stopped him again.

"Come on. I'm the one with the veritaserum concoction, right?" Harry smiled, nearly every tooth showing. "I'm just looking out for you."

Relenting goodnaturedly, Draco waggled his eyebrows. "Ashamed of me, Potter?"

"Please. I'd rather shout it from the rooftops, but I don't want to do anything that'll scare you off." He narrowed his eyes in thought, then shook his head with a smirk. "Well, I'd rather tell Ron quietly first, _then_ shout it from the rooftops."

"Why? Weasley's such a lovely, understanding person. I can't imagine he'd care." Draco saw some of Harry's bliss flicker at the total lack of sarcasm in his voice but he just sighed, content, as the flicker faded and Harry threw his head back to laugh.

"Sure, he can be, but Ron's an absolute, insensitive git when he's caught unaware."

"No he isn't, Harry." Granger's voice was as dreamy as Draco felt, and she returned his vague smile as she and Weasley drew nearer, bags over their shoulders.

Weasley was shaking his head. "Yes, I am, Hermione. And speaking of which..." He turned to face Draco fully, trying to look somber through his foolish grin and glazed eyes. "At my lovely girlfriend's insistence, I'd like to apologize."

"Oh, Ron, I didn't insist a thing. This was all your idea."

"Nah, it was mostly her," Weasley said. "She's been nagging at me to apologize since Saturday at the pub but I've been too damn embarrassed to actually do it. Feel ready now, though."

It should have stirred some alarm, some anxiety, some emotion besides joy in Draco's heart to hear Weasley proclaiming that he was about to offer his formal apologies. But the fog of bliss protected his heart and his lungs, keeping him breathing evenly as he simply beamed at Weasley.

"Let's hear it, then!"

Weasley nodded. "I, Ronald Weasley, am apologizing to you, Draco Malfoy, for implying that you are better off dead. I've never wanted nor wished that you'd die or off yourself or anything of the sort. I am just an arse and say horrible things when I am angry and uncomfortable."

Draco waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure you don't."

"Oh, he definitely does," Harry chuckled.

Weasley grinned. "I don't feel bad for what's happened in the past. I'm not above that. But if Harry's willing and able to move on and be your friend, I reckon I'm willing to try, too."

"It's a bit more than that, mate," Harry said, and Draco raised his eyebrows at him, vaguely surprised.

Weasley knitted his bows together. "Eh?"

"Been a bit more than friendly, I'd say. Snogged him a few times. Once in our dormitory."

Weasley snorted. "That why you broke up with Ginny?"

"Nah, she and I just weren't a good match anymore after the war."

Grinning like idiots, Harry and Weasley stared at each other a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. Weasley gave Harry a brotherly shove and straightened up, offering a hand out to Draco. Something about the gesture was immensely hilarious, and Draco cackled as he shook Weasley's hand.

"Treat our Harry well, mind you," Weasley wheezed through his laughter.

It didn't warrant an answer, and Harry snatched Draco's hand back in his and led him out of the dungeons, Granger and Weasley at their heels. It was blissfully strange, Draco thought as the four skipped up the castle to the library to spend the remainder of time until lunch. The golden trio of their year, heroes of the wizarding world, walking happily alongside the teenage Death Eater that was practically the reason for Albus Dumbledore's murder. But Draco couldn't bring himself to stress over the details of the strangeness of their group as they filed into the library, quietly giggling among the shelves.

It only took Madam Pince a few minutes to find them laughing outrageously in the far corner of the library. She threw them out, utterly disgusted with the bliss that hung over them.

Even without the potion, Draco was sure that he was truly happy in that moment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the filth commence. Pretty tame filth, but I feel obligated to announce it. 
> 
> This is also the point in Deserved were I always felt I left my comfort zone when it comes to writing sex/feelings/pushing characters so outside their canon-personalities, but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 2017 me was different than 2020 me.

The frigid November continued, carrying into a calmer December with skies that only seemed to wish to drown the castle in snow. Several feet blocked paths to and from the lessons that were usually held outdoors, keeping Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures in odd classrooms on the first floor as the Christmas holidays drew closer. The cold was absolute, keeping even the most adventurous of students wrapped tight in their cloaks and away from the drafty windows.

But with lessons over and the train due to take those returning home for the holidays to London the following morning, Harry felt less inclined to keep bundled as he pressed his bare chest against Draco's, fiercely kissing him against the bed below.

In the previous few weeks, Harry and Draco had kept close, publicly friends and privately a mess of lips and skin, kept quiet at Draco's continued insistence. Ron had been a bit horrified at the revelation of their relationship once the Bliss Potion had worn off, but his acceptance had remained sound, much to Harry's relief. Harry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione had become something of a group, often studying together during their break periods. It had been a huge weight from Harry's shoulders, a weight he hadn't realized was there, to be open with his new relationship with his two best friends.

Harry and Draco had taken to sharing a bed on the weekend, alternating between Houses. They had only to oversleep an entire Potions class once before they had both agreed that the weeknights were better left as they were. But though the holidays were due to begin the following morning and they had a train to catch, Harry had no qualms about being in Draco's bed that evening.

Only their boxer briefs separated them, and Harry's chest burned as it slid against Draco's skin. A thin sheen of sweat covered them both as Harry kissed and licked Draco's mouth with every bit of passion he had. Fire connected them at every contact and it only seared when Harry grinded his hips against Draco's.

"Fu-uck," Draco hissed.

Encouraged, Harry shifted his hips and pressed down more deliberately.

Draco moaned.

Harry withdrew the hand that had been holding Draco's cheek and trailed his fingers down Draco's neck, halting briefly to tickle the exposed nipple on Draco's chest as he continued downward. Draco gasped slightly, rolling his head back with pleasure and only fueling Harry's boldness. As Harry dipped to nibble at the skin that blended Draco's neck and shoulder, he let his hand continue to wander down Draco's chest and stomach. His index finger cautiously slipped into Draco's waistband.

Though they had enjoyed countless memorable snogging sessions in varying states of undress, Harry and Draco still hadn't cross the line into active, skin-to-skin touching below the waist. Not that Harry hadn't wanted to with every fiber of his being. But as Draco hadn't stepped any closer to the line, Harry hadn't, either.

But with the holidays bearing over them and Draco's body turning into putty beneath him, Harry decided to wordlessly ask once more. He didn't get the chance, however.

"Please," Draco moaned, voice only just an octave below a formal beg.

Harry smirked. Sweet victory.

Nothing more in his way, Harry slipped his hand completely under the thin fabric that separated him from Draco and quickly wrapped his hand firmly around the stiff cock within.

The moan that came out of Draco's mouth was absolutely filthy, and Harry willed himself not to climax at the sound. He surged forward and crashed his lips onto Draco's in a messy kiss. It only took Harry's hand a few twists before Draco was actively thrusting upward with his hips, nails digging into the skin of Harry's back.

"Take...off...these...blasted...boxers," Draco moaned between kisses. His hands reached down and began to tug at the fabric still keeping them apart, and Harry released his grip on Draco's cock to help.

It was fast work, mere seconds flickering by before they were both entirely nude, and Harry's instincts dropped him fully onto Draco's body to continue their fierce kiss. Their cocks slid against one another, skin on skin, and Harry heard his own moan over Draco's at the explosion of sensation. When a soft hand wrapped around Harry's cock and began to slide up and down over the head, Harry let out a strangled cry and brought his own hand back down between them in search of Draco once more.

It became a blur of twisting hands and thrusting hips, teeth clinking between distracted kisses as the heat grew between them, concentrating deep in Harry's groin as he felt his climax drawing closer.

"Draco," he gasped.

There was only a whimper in reply and then they were both coming together, absolute ecstasy blinding them in the dark room. Hot semen erupted from them both, smothering their hands and covering Draco's stomach as fireworks exploded in Harry's vision.

They seemed to freeze in time, their hands not quite ready to release one another. The high of orgasm made Harry smile like a fool on Draco's lips as they both panted into each other, gulping for air.

"You know," Draco rasped after a moment, "that was...this is excessively messier than I...than I thought it'd be."

Harry laughed and pressed a kiss to Draco's mouth before sitting up and taking a few haggard breaths. Draco's room was darker than the Gryffindor dormitories, but Harry spotted his own tee shirt lying on the bed table and grabbed it. It wasn't the best job he could have done but Harry mopped up the mess that covered him and Draco, making sure not to rub too much of it into the skin.

"Well now that shirt's just ruined," Draco said, still breathless as Harry wadded the fabric into a tight ball and dropped it onto the floor.

Harry flopped onto the bed beside Draco with a contented sigh. "I can't really bring myself to give a damn at the moment, to be honest."

"Could've just used a spell."

"Huh. Guess I could've."

They laid there for a moment, side by side and still naked, breathing into the silence as their hearts raced in sync. When Harry felt that he could breathe comfortably through his nose again without his lungs burning, he turned and snuggled into Draco's side. An arm snaked along his back, rubbing circles into his muscles. Harry closed his eyes as Draco's fingers gently combed through his hair.

"I love you."

The finger's froze in his hair, and Harry forced himself to breathe calmly. He had been thinking it for nearly a week, but now it was out in the open and Draco was only silent in response.

"That's..." Draco gulped, still a bit breathless. "That's terrifying."

"Would you rather I say I hated you?"

"Well...at least it's more familiar."

Harry chuckled softly, ignoring the mild hurt that pulsed in his chest. It wasn't his place to force Draco to love him back, and as Draco hadn't thrown him from his bed at the phrase, Harry tried to take it as a win. Or at least not a loss.

"Well, then," he said, leaning up to kiss Draco. "I hate you."

A smile twisted Draco's lips against Harry's as he whispered, "I hate you back."

It was better than nothing.

Harry rolled off the bed, dipping down in search of his clothes.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked.

Harry slipped into his boxer briefs and reached for his pants. "Dinner. It's nearly time, and I'm starving."

"Mmm," Draco hummed as he watched Harry pull on his shoes. Without asking, Harry found an extra shirt of Draco's and slipped it over his head.

"You're coming, too, so come on."

"Must I?"

"Yes, Draco, you already don't eat enough."

"I eat far more than I used to."

As Harry finished with his robes, he shot Draco what he hoped was a stern look. "Doesn't matter. One meal a day still isn't enough. Let's go, come on, then."

Sighing dramatically, Draco obliged, leaving Harry to watch. He really was beautiful, Harry thought as Draco dressed. It was a shame that it would be a little less than two weeks before he could see him once the holidays started.

"Looking forward to the holiday?" Harry asked.

Draco frowned slightly. "I suppose. It'll be nice not to worry about homework and studying, but...it's going to be strange, going back to the manor. I doubt my mother's finished grieving...how about you? You'll be with the Weasleys, right?"

Harry nodded, not commenting on Draco's quick answer and deflection. It would undoubtedly be an unusual Christmas for the Malfoys, and Harry had no right to insist that it would be anything but that.

"Yeah. It'll be rather full, I think, what with all the brothers that are usually abroad or elsewhere coming to stay at once."

"And Ginny?" Draco asked as he put on his robes. "How are things there?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, she's stopped actively avoiding and ignoring me. Think that might mean we're getting past things."

"Mm."

"You don't have to worry, you know."

Draco smirked. "I wasn't."

"Oooh, getting some of that Malfoy swagger back?"

"Harry, I have never _swaggered_. I was just always more confident than you and your shuffling."

Harry laughed, allowing Draco to pull him by the arm onto his feet. "I bet I can get half our year to attest to the fact that you did, in fact, swagger."

"Shut up."

* * *

Draco's mother had greeted him with a smile on the platform in London. It was a wonderful surprise to see her smiling again, and Draco hadn't hesitated in wrapping his arms around her when she threw herself into him. But as they left the station in search for a safe place to Disapparate home, somberness had befallen her once more, stealing that smile from him.

The manor was nearly just as he had left it - much too cold, far too dark, conspicuously void of anything that had once made it a _home_. A thin layer of dust coated the surfaces of the once spotless drawing room and lounge. Varying spaces on the walls were empty of certain photos that had been removed in Draco's time back at Hogwarts. No soft skittering of the feet of house elves or the vague stench of smoke from his father's pipe filled the large manor, leaving Draco's trunk to echo as he rolled it across the threshold.

There was, however, a distinctly warm and meaty smell drifting from the kitchen as he passed, causing Draco to stop.

"I expect dinner to be finished soon," his mother said at his back. She stepped to the kitchen door, resting her hand on the handle. "Why don't you drop off your things in your room and I'll see to making us a couple of plates?"

"That...that sounds great, Mother."

He climbed the stairs and made his way to his bedroom, footfalls sounding excessive in the silence of the manor. His mother had never cooked before, leaving the task to their house elves. Even when their house elves had been placed into others' care by the Ministry, she had taken to anonymously ordering food for them rather than cooking herself. Perhaps she had taken up cooking to occupy herself, Draco thought as he stepped into his bedroom. It was untouched, a stray sock even still lying on the floor near his window. Though however she had come by the food, the smells that filled Draco's nose as he removed his cloak were fantastic.

A note fell from his cloak when he made to fold it. It was a torn scrap of parchment, no larger than his palm, and Draco recognized the untidy scrawl there.

**Draco,  
** **Hope you have a happy holiday!  
** **Look forward to hearing from you soon.  
** **Love,**   
**Harry**

A small smile tugged at his lips.

It had been a rather enjoyable ride, sharing a compartment with Harry, Weasley, and Granger, whom Draco had grown comfortable enough with to call Hermione. The hours had been whittled away with easy conversation and various games of Exploding Snap and wizarding chess, which Draco had always been rather good at, much to Weasley's unpleasant surprise. But most importantly, Draco had been able to bask in Harry's company without issue or worry.

Well, mostly without issue or worry. He still hadn't returned the 'I love you' that Harry had spoken to him in his bed the night before.

Draco's stomach twisted with regret. He had come an awfully long way in the past few months, but Draco still didn't feel entirely certain that he deserved the happiness that begin with Harry brought him. Was he really ready to commit more than he already had to dooming Harry to the reputation of being seen with a Malfoy? Already students at the castle whispered when they walked together in the corridors as friends. How much worse might it become if they actually crossed that line and showed the true nature of their relationship in the open?

But still, Draco's heart fluttered happily as he relived Harry telling him that he loved Draco not just once but twice. When the train had stopped and Hermione and Weasley had left them alone for a moment, Harry had grabbed Draco's hand and pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

"Still love you, you know," he had said with a smile.

Draco hadn't said it back, but still.

"Draco, honey?" His mother's voice calling softly to him shook Draco from his musings. "Dinner is ready...if you'd like to eat."

He dropped the note on his bed and made his way back downstairs.

"I wasn't sure you were coming," Draco's mother said as he entered the kitchen. It smelled amazing.

"Sorry," Draco said, taking a seat at the island in the center of the large kitchen. "Just distracted by something was all. Did...did you cook all this? It smells wonderful."

She shrugged, though her lips twitched at the compliment. "I haven't had much to occupy my time. I thought I'd surprise you."

She sat beside him, placing two plates on the island.

"It's a bit different than we used to eat," she said. "But I think it's about time for a change, wouldn't you agree?"

Draco nodded, staring down at the rich roast beef and buttery potatoes that sat alongside what looked like a homemade roll. It was rather different than the leaner meals the Malfoys had always eaten before. But one bite into the juicy meat had Draco not giving much thought about the shift.

"Wow, it tastes just as good as it smells."

"Thank you, honey."

They ate quietly for a few minutes before Draco asked, "So...how have you been? What have you been doing all this time? Your letters didn't really say."

"I've been fine," his mother replied, not quite meeting his eye. "I...I owled Andromeda, however. My...other sister."

"Really? That's...that's good. How, uh, is she?" Draco knew little about his mother's sister that married a muggleborn. Little outside who all she had lost in the war, which was everyone - her husband, her daughter, her son-in-law...

"As you'd expect, I'd say. She and I...we're...well, we're all..." Draco's mother sighed, setting down her fork. "We've been keeping in touch. I've gone to see her twice now. She's left-well, she's raising her grandson, little Teddy, now. He's about nine months, I believe. Adorable little boy."

The bread in Draco's mouth hurt when he swallowed much too soon. He could clearly hear Bellatrix's voice scathingly asking if he was going to babysit the 'cubs.' Draco could only assume that his mother was remembering the same comment, for she cleared her throat and shifted in her chair.

"Andromeda's quite lovely, and Teddy's just delightful. Hardly cries, it seems. You...you ought to meet him, you know. He is your second cousin."

"Right," Draco said, though the thought of meeting the child stirred up his anxiety. "That...that sounds nice."

His mother gave a relieved sigh, lifting her fork again. "I'm glad to hear you agree. I was hoping we could visit them come Christmas."

A startled cough choked Draco, leaving him gasping for air around his half-chewed roll. He had really only agreed to please his mother, not to actually visit so soon. But as he downed some water, Draco just nodded at his mother, trying to return her smile.

"How has returning to Hogwarts been?"

"It's been fine," Draco said, trying to sound confident in his vague answer.

"Have...have the other students been kind?"

He scoffed. "They hardly owe it to me to be so."

His mother nodded slowly, swallowing her food. "Have they at least refrained from...from being violent?"

Vivid memories of the wandburns covering his arms filled his head, dancing with the various jinxes and hexes thrown at him in the corridors. He had begged Professor McGonagall not to write his mother about the incident that nearly resulted in his skull being shattered and miraculously, she had complied. Being a legal adult likely had been the only thing keeping his secret safe.

"Yes, Mother. I haven't had any issues."

Silence fell over them again. Draco made to quickly finish his food before something else could come up in conversation. Thanks only to Harry's forceful insistence, Draco had been able to eat more than a few bites at once, though it only took a turn in topic to spoil the roast in his mouth.

"I wish you weren't suffering for your father's mistakes."

She had said it so softly that Draco contemplated pretending he hadn't heard her. But his mother deserved more respect than that. He carefully removed his plate and hers from the island and moved to set them in the large sink before answering.

"I've made enough mistakes of my own without bringing him into this."

"I only meant that I wish things weren't so hard on you," she said to his back. "We all made unfortunate decisions, but you were just a boy when all this started. You were hardly given a chance."

"I still made the choices I did and I have to live with them."

"I know."

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling very tired suddenly. He wanted nothing more than to agree with his mother's kind sentiment, that he was just a product of unfortunate circumstance, but he was no longer a child. He knew that he had long ago dug his own grave.

"Have...have you any friends at the school now?" his mother asked after a few seconds. "I know...I know many of your old friends weren't able to...to return to Hogwarts. But I was rather hopeful that maybe you could...make some new ones this year."

"Uh...well, actually," he began, turning to face her again and leaning back against the counter, "I have made some...unusual friends."

"Unusual?"

He nodded, trying not to gulp. "Harry Potter and his friends."

Draco's mother looked as though she had been slapped for a moment, total confusion clouding her eyes as she appraised Draco fully. But she seemed to gather herself, exhaled, and smiled.

"That is a bit unusual," she said kindly. "Not that being close with the Potter boy is a bad thing, but...you ought to be careful there."

Draco's mouth went dry. "How, uh...how do you mean?"

"Potter is a constant fixture in our media," she said "A hero, whereas our name is...not what it used to be. Being Potter's friend just might bring you a certain publicity that you might not find flattering, is all. So just...be aware."

"Right...uh, I will be," Draco said. He pushed off the counter and gave his mother a soft peck on the cheek. "I'm a bit tired from the train and all. I think I'll take a hot bath and rest."

Even Draco could hear the foolishness in his words, feel the obvious escape in them. But his mother tactfully smiled and nodded at him, giving his arm a gentle pat. "Good night, honey. I will see you when you are more awake."

His room couldn't come fast enough, and as Draco gathered his things to take the bath he did truly want to take, he fought to breathe normally through his constricting chest. His mother was right, of course. To no longer be Harry's enemy was one thing, a good thing. To become too friendly with him, to take things as far as he already had with Harry was another thing entirely. Hope for it not to completely blow up in his face was wishful thinking at best. As the large bath filled with steaming water, Draco glared sadly at himself in the mirror.

Perhaps it was best that he hadn't said 'I love you' back.


	15. Chapter 15

**Draco,  
Haven't heard from you since the holidays started and wanted to check in. Hope that's okay. Things are busy over here at the Burrow. All of Ron's brothers are here, making it a bit cramped, but it's a good kind of busy. I'm looking forward to a bit of a break Christmas morning. Ron's missing Hermione, but I reckon she's glad to be spending time at home right now.  
How are things over on your end? How's your mum? I hope things are going better than you were thinking.  
Have a Happy Christmas!  
Love,  
Harry**

Draco smoothed out the letter on his desk, smiling at the signature despite his shaking certainty that returning the sentiment wasn't the best idea. He hadn't exactly expected a letter from Harry while on holiday, suspecting that he would be too busy with the Weasley family to think much of Draco. But Harry had once again surprised Draco when a tiny, overexcited owl slammed noisily into his window the night previous.

It was Christmas morning. Draco had enjoyed a quiet coffee and muffin breakfast with his mother as the sun rose, but now they were preparing to go visit Andromeda and Teddy as it neared mid-morning. Draco figured that he ought to reply to Harry's letter and return the owl before they left.

**Harry,  
I'm doing well. Mother, too. She's taken up cooking in her spare time since I've left. It's quite good, too.  
Glad to hear things are exciting with the Weasleys.  
Have a Happy Christmas yourself.  
Draco**

It was short, vague, and far from heartfelt, but it was all Draco could think to write in the time he had before his mother was calling him downstairs. He hastily rolled up the letter, strapped it to the tiny owl, and threw it out the window. It hooted gleefully and took off, leaving Draco with an anxious knot in the pit of his stomach. Nothing in between him and visiting Andromeda and Teddy now.

"Here, hold these, please," Draco's mother said, handing him a tin as he came to her side in the drawing room.

"What is it?"

"They're Christmas cookies I baked for Andromeda." She showed him the wrapped parcel in her own arms. "And this is a gift for Teddy. It's not much, but I didn't think it proper to arrive empty-handed."

"Right."

The knot in Draco's stomach tightened as he and his mother turned on the spot, Disapparating into the void that would take them to his estranged aunt's home.

It was a rather nice home, Draco thought as they Apparated at the curb of a suburban two-story house. Somewhere between large and small, the home definitely had more of a cozy feel than the Malfoy Manor ever had. Long-dead gardens wrapped around the front porch and lined the walkway that extended to the street behind them. Christmas lights hung from the dormers protruding from the second story. Draco tried to smile at the sight. It really was a pleasant looking home despite his anxiety about the inhabitants.

"Well, come one, then, Draco," his mother said, leading the way up the front steps and knocking confidently on the wreathed door.

Andromeda answered. It was rather shocking just how much she really looked like Bellatrix, though Draco could tell that her features were softer, her body less sharp and angular, eyes kinder under lighter hair. She opened the door and smiled a thin smile at them both, eyes drifting between them as she stepped to the side to let them indoors.

"Happy Christmas, Happy Christmas," she said, patting them each on the shoulder as they passed. Draco tried not to look too uncomfortable as he stepped inside the home.

Even the furniture was cozy. Slightly oversized and mismatched, the browns and reds and oranges gave the living room an aching warmth that was only increased by the slew of baby toys and contraptions that littered the area rug. Amidst the homey chaos, almost hidden among the brightly colored toys, was a baby.

Draco stopped to stare at the child. He seemed excessively small, blue eyes too large for his face and fine hair a strange mix of dark brown and hot pink. Those blue eyes came to meet Draco's, and in the few short seconds that followed, they changed to a pale gray and his hair became a deep black.

"Draco, it's good to finally see you."

Pulling his eyes away from the baby, Draco turned to face his aunt and tried to smile. Her voice didn't completely match her words, but Draco could only assume that as early as a few months ago, Andromeda hadn't cared or even known that he existed. He extended his hand.

"I'm glad to finally meet you."

A genuine smirk flickered across her face. Andromeda scoffed lightly as she ignored his hand and drew him in for a brief hug.

"Let's skip the formalities, shall we? Narcissa and I already cleared away most of the awkwardness." She pulled back and surveyed Draco closely at arm's length. "You look good. A bit ill, perhaps, but good."

"Uhm...thank you."

She released him and took the parcel from Draco's mother's arms, setting it on the couch. "How's Hogwarts this year?"

"It's going well." And only because he thought it rude not to, he asked, "How's...uhm, how's Teddy been?"

The name sounded strange on his tongue but Draco fought not to let it show.

Andromeda peered at the baby on the floor, eyes softening. "He's wonderful. It's rather lucky, though, that his mother was a metamorphmagus, too. This time, I'm a bit more prepared for it."

"Oh?"

"It's not very different from raising a normal baby, really. It just affects how often I can take him around muggles," she said with a shrug. Andromeda took the tin from Draco's hands and turned to his mother. "Come, Narcissa. I'll find a home for whatever this is and you can help me make some tea. You play nice with my grandson, Draco, you hear?"

"Oh, uh...yes, ma'am."

Leaving him alone with Teddy, Andromeda and Draco's mother vanished into the adjacent kitchen.

"Grab a knife, will you?" Draco heard Andromeda telling his mother as the door slowly swung closed. "I have some company coming soon..."

But he didn't hear who he might soon be dealing with as the door latched shut. Draco was left in the company of the baby, who was babbling happily at a stuffed toy in his hands. Unsure what to say or how to interact, Draco sat on the floor a few feet from Teddy and watched him begin to gnaw at the stuffed elephant's foot.

Draco knew very little about babies. He never had any brothers or sisters, never had any friends with younger siblings, never even had cousins that were younger or he was allowed to meet. Teddy seemed capable of sitting up on his own, not being supported by anything on the floor as he continued to chew. His hair was quickly changing back to brown, eyes returning to the blue Draco had seen when he first arrived.

Was he supposed to talk to the baby? Draco wasn't sure and remained quiet as he watched Teddy discard the elephant after a moment and fall to his hands and knees and take off crawling. The speed at which Teddy moved was a bit surprising, but not nearly as surprising as when the small child grabbed at a tray and tried to pull himself to his feet.

The tray was unsteady, made to fold and slide behind the couch, and a rather full cup of coffee on it shook dangerously when Teddy pulled on it. The cup rattled, splashing some of the dark liquid onto the tray. Draco lunged forward as two of the tray's legs began to lift off the floor. With one hand, Draco snatched the cup to prevent it from spilling everywhere, and with the other hand, he smacked his palm on the tray, steadying it as Teddy finally found his feet.

The baby giggled and tried to take a step toward Draco, but Teddy's feet didn't plant correctly and he slumped onto his bottom with a soft thump. Teddy just giggled again, grabbing at his toes.

A strange sadness took hold of Draco, pulling at his heart as painfully as though it were trying to rip the organ through his ribcage. He wasn't necessarily responsible for Teddy being so terribly orphaned, but guilt swam through Draco's veins as the little boy babbled and made to crawl into his lap.

Tiny hands grabbed at Draco's pants as Teddy pulled himself more fully into his lap, smacking his face into Draco's chest when his little arm wasn't quite long enough to reach the opposite knee. Draco carefully returned the coffee back to its perch on the tray and helped the baby to his feet inside his crossed legs, hands huge against Teddy's sides. He was so little, and he was so alone.

Thanks to everything that Draco's family had stood for during the time when it mattered most.

Teddy leaned in, stretching his neck, and tried to blow a raspberry in Draco's face. Mostly, though, he just blew baby drool all over the place. Draco's eyes shut instinctively as he pulled his head back. Teddy giggled.

"That's awfully gross, you know."

Draco removed a hand from Teddy to wipe the baby slobber off his face and Teddy wiggled until he dropped onto Draco's leg, cooing happily. Sitting there, letting the baby crawl all over his lap, exploring the stranger in his living room, Draco felt some of the calm he thought he had left on the train coming back to him.

Until Teddy bit him.

"Shit!" Draco hissed, his leg flinching violently from the razor-sharp teeth in Teddy's mouth.

Startled, Teddy's lip stuck out and his eyes screwed shut. Softly, he began to cry.

"Oh, shit, no, please don't."

Draco lifted Teddy up off of him and tried to hug him, but Teddy only pushed away as his cries grew marginally louder. Desperate not to be found with a screaming child after being left alone with it, Draco flopped onto his back, tossing Teddy into the air above him and catching him only when he was within a few inches of crashing into Draco's face.

The crying stopped.

Draco tossed Teddy again and scrunched his nose at the baby.

Those baby lips twisted into a smile.

Draco threw him again, sticking out his tongue this time.

Teddy squealed happily, waving his arms and kicking his legs with glee.

Draco couldn't help it. He smiled.

A door opened somewhere over their heads and Draco tilted his head back to see the look on his mother's and aunt's faces when they saw him with Teddy. He hoped it would make his mother smile, maybe ease some of the worry he knew Andromeda was likely still feeling.

Instead, he saw Harry Potter.

* * *

Despite the emotions it evoked and the memories it stirred, Harry had made the time to see Teddy Lupin no less than five times after the war and before returning to Hogwarts. A part of Harry had wanted to take the child and raise him on his own as Sirius had wanted to after Harry had been orphaned, but Hermione had reasonably reminded Harry that Andromeda was far more qualified for the job. It hadn't been what he wanted to hear, but it had been what was best for Teddy.

Andromeda had been kind, though. She allowed Harry a visit any time he requested, and when Harry had returned to Hogwarts, she had sent him monthly pictures without ever having been asked. It was a unique relationship, one that Harry had almost immediately taken to with ease.

But Andromeda, who was usually so good at keeping Harry updated on Teddy's life, hadn't once mentioned that the Malfoys would be over for Christmas.

Harry wasn't sure who was more shocked - Draco or himself. He had let himself into Andromeda's house as she had requested in her letter from the day before, but nothing could have prepared him for walking in on his enemy-turned-boyfriend playing on the floor with his godson.

"Draco?"

"Harry?"

The terror in Draco's eyes squashed out the confusion in Harry's heart, and he closed the door behind him before dropping onto the living room floor with a grin.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, still frozen on his back with Teddy squirming in his arms above him.

Harry reached over and took the baby from Draco, cuddling him close to his chest as Teddy cooed and smacked him in the face delightfully. "I, er, guess I never mentioned I have a godson, huh?"

"Harry, dear!" Andromeda cried, flinging open the kitchen door and sweeping into the room. She stooped over and wrapped Harry and Teddy into a tight hug, kissing each of Harry's cheeks. "You're a bit early! Wasn't expecting you for another hour, at least!"

Harry shrugged as she pulled back to get a better look at him. "Things were calming down at the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley kicked me out so I could have Christmas tea over here."

"I see. How thoughtful of Molly to share you with me." Andromeda winked, then turned to offer a hand out to the woman behind her - Draco's mother. "I believe you've met my sister, Narcissa?"

Narcissa smiled sadly at him but offered her hand out, which Harry took and gently shook.

"And her son, Draco?"

Harry grinned at Draco, still on the floor beside him. "We've met."

"Excellent, excellent," Andromeda said, missing the sarcasm. "Sorry I didn't mention in my letter, dear, but it seems our family is finally making some of the amends that are long overdue. Hopefully it's nothing too...ah, uncomfortable."

"No, ma'am."

"Well, let me fetch the tea and sandwiches, shall I? I suspect you're a bit cold."

Not wanting to be rude, Harry simply nodded and Andromeda disappeared back into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a large tray in her arms.

"Alright, everyone find a seat. And set Teddy down, Harry, he's been rather grabby lately. Don't want him burning himself on your tea."

It should have been strange, having Christmas tea with Andromeda, Teddy, Draco, and Narcissa. Less than a year ago, Harry never thought he'd be here, politely talking about the various administrative changes Hogwarts had undertaken with Narcissa Malfoy and her estranged sister while Remus Lupin's son crawled around their feet. It could have been easier, maybe, without Narcissa staring quietly at the floor for most of the exchange, but it also could have been so much worse.

Draco sat next to Harry on the couch facing the two armchairs holding the Black women. Harry was determinedly friendly despite neither he nor Draco revealing just how close they were, wanting it to be apparent to both Andromeda and Narcissa that things were moving past old prejudices. He couldn't imagine that Draco had been entirely open with his mother about the extent of their relationship, but Harry knew that this was a good time to plant the seeds of trust in Narcissa.

When the tea was all gone and only a couple sandwiches remained, Harry and Draco were stretched out on their stomachs on the floor, letting Teddy crawl all over and in between them. He was far more active than the last time Harry had seen him, when Teddy wasn't yet five months old and seemed to specialize in staring. Now he was less baby and more toddler, moving and trying to walk and grabbing at absolutely everything within reach. Such a happy baby, Harry thought as Teddy grinned up at him.

But when Teddy reached for something just beyond Harry's shoulder and was unable to snag it, his face screwed up tightly and he let out a very unhappy wail.

"I think it's about time for a nap," Andromeda said as the cries grew steadily louder. "I'll make him a bottle and lie him down."

Harry did his best to comfort the crying baby while Andromeda stepped into the kitchen once more, but for all the shushing and bouncing, Teddy only continued to scream. Tiny teeth sank into Harry's shoulder briefly. He groaned to keep from swearing right in Teddy's ear. Not that he'd have heard it anyway.

"Here we are!" Andromeda relieved Teddy from Harry's arms, popping a bottle in the little mouth and silencing the screams. "Last bottle until I can get to the store, Teddy, so drink it up."

"Do you need me to go grab you something?" Harry asked. He wasn't obligated by any means to provide for Teddy, but he still wanted to help where he could.

"Well...if you're here and offering, it'd save me a hassle later if you could pick up some formula at the store down the road."

"Happy to do it. Really." Harry stood and grabbed his cloak. "Want to come, Draco?"

"Uh..." Draco glanced at his mother. Her face didn't reveal anything that Harry could understand, though she did give Draco a nearly imperceptible nod. "Sure."

The wind of the morning had died down as the sun continued across the sky, making the short walk far less miserable than it would have been. Warmth from the sun teased their faces around their scarves as a light breeze billowed their cloaks. There was only a mile or more between Andromeda's home and the small corner store, but Harry was glad to have Draco's company for the distance.

"I didn't know you were Teddy's godfather," Draco said once they had left the pathway and turned onto the lane.

"Well, I haven't exactly mentioned it. I had entirely forgotten that you were related to him, though."

"To be honest, so had I." Draco sighed. "My mother decided to reach out while she was alone. Had she not, I doubt I'd have ever met him."

Keeping his hands warm in his pockets, Harry nudged Draco with his elbow. "Well, now you've met him. Cute little thing, right?"

A small smile crept up onto Draco's face. "I suppose. If you're into baby drool and being bitten."

"You're going to stand there and tell me you didn't enjoy every one of those teeth sinking into you?"

"I most certainly am." Draco's grin faded slightly. "How...how did you end up his godfather?"

"Lupin asked me."

"I didn't realize you two were so close. I mean, I remember you liked him a lot as a teacher, but I didn't know you saw him much after he left."

"Well, I didn't for about a year, but when the Order of the Phoenix reformed and he was a part of it, I got to see him more." It was strange, Harry thought, talking about Lupin and the Order without the hurtful pang in his chest. Instead, it felt rather...nice. Just a reminiscing.

"I suppose you were close with most of the Order, being the Chosen One and all." There wasn't even a bitter or sad note in Draco's voice as they talked about the past together. Hope surged in Harry's chest as the neared the first bend in the road.

"Most, yeah. Headquarters was at Sirius' old house. My godfather," he clarified at the mild confusion on Draco's face. "So I was able to see most of the Order there. But once Lupin and Tonks had Teddy, he found me back at the old house and asked me to be godfather. Downright terrifying at the time."

"Is that right?"

"Well, he asked me literally the day before Ron, Hermione, and I broke into the Ministry of Magic to steal from Umbridge. I didn't exactly feel responsible enough to ever be in charge of a baby."

"Still said 'yes,' though."

"Well, yeah."

Draco was smiling and shaking his head. "You always were rash and reckless."

"Still am." Harry stopped and grabbed Draco's hand then, having him look him in the eye before they reached the store. "How've things been? Your letter was awfully short."

Draco shrugged. "Mother's better, but...I mentioned that you and I were friends."

"Really? How'd she take it?"

"She said to be careful, and she's right." Draco dropped his gaze. "Being friends with a Malfoy will only tarnish your reputation."

"Damn, Draco, you really think I'm that shallow?"

"What?"

Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's confusion. "I've gone through a lot of crap, most of it ruining my reputation. Didn't particularly care then, and I certainly don't give a damn now." He quirked his brow and grinned. "I killed Voldemort, remember? I think I'm entitled to be friends with whomever I'd like."

A soft laugh came through Draco's nose but he didn't answer. Not wanting to press the issue and possibly spoil the day, Harry pulled Draco toward the store.

"Come on, let's find this formula and get back where it's warm."

* * *

All in all, Christmas could have gone a lot worse, Draco thought as he laid in bed that night.

Andromeda could have completely rejected him; instead, she left him alone with her tiny grandson.

His mother could have said something horrible to Harry; instead she had shaken his hand.

His mother could have caused a scene when Harry asked Draco to come along to the store; instead, she had remained quiet and given Draco a small but clear smile.

The conversation to the store could have made Harry sad or uncomfortable; instead, Draco now knew a few new things about him.

His mother could have seen Harry holding Draco's hand as they entered the house; instead, she had her head turned and missed it.

So much could have gone wrong. But rather than the bad Malfoy luck as of late, Draco had the best Christmas he'd had in years. He smiled foolishly to himself as he tossed beneath the cover, tangling himself against the cold that never seemed to seep from the manor. And Harry had told him, for a third time, that he loved him as they had said their goodbyes outside Andromeda's door. The women had been busied with making their own plans for the new year, and Harry had leaned into Draco's side and whispered it in his ear.

Chills erupted on Draco's skin just at the memory.

Harry Potter loved him, and he wasn't giving up on Draco.

Maybe Draco's mother was wrong.

Maybe this could work out.


	16. Chapter 16

Harry's cock was swollen and hard, straining against the confines of his pants as he mercilessly snogged Draco against the wall of the Slytherin dormitory. The train ride had been absolute torture, keeping Harry honest and off Draco's lips for hours more after over two weeks apart. But once they had arrived back at the castle, Harry was quick to offer to skip dinner in favor of sating a very different hunger. Much to his pleasure, Draco hadn't disagreed.

Harry slid his hands into Draco's robes, pulling at the undershirt that was tucked into the pants below.

"Why," he growled into Draco's mouth, "are you in so many layers?"

"Because it's cold as hell."

Fingers fumbling blindly, Harry finally felt the round plastic of a button and began to undo Draco's shirt. "Well, you should at least wear something without blasted buttons."

"I only wore it to piss you off."

"Mission accomplished," Harry said distractedly, trying to focus on talking, kissing, and unbuttoning all at once. It was far more complicated than he had anticipated. But before long, Harry had Draco's shirt undone and untucked, exposing the flesh underneath to his frantic fingers.

A soft moan left Draco's lips at Harry's touch. Encouraged, he lifted his hands to completely remove Draco's robes and shirt in one motion. They fell to the floor and Draco was left shirtless and against the wall, just as Harry needed him to be.

Harry's lips trailed kisses down Draco's chin and neck, nipping at the skin just below his protruding collar bone. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath as Draco's hands gripped him tight on the arm and in his hair. A smirk stole Harry's lips at the sound and he slid his teeth against the soft skin again.

"Fuck," Draco sighed. "There's no reasonable...that shouldn't feel that good."

Harry kissed his way back to Draco's mouth, licking his way into those lips. Draco moaned on Harry's tongue and pushed himself off the wall, guiding Harry backward toward the bed. The backs of Harry's legs hit the soft mattress, but he stayed firm when Draco made to push him over.

"No way you're shirtless and I'm not," he said as he broke away just enough to remove his own robes and shirt, tossing both unceremoniously onto the floor. Harry's hands found Draco's waist and pulled him flush against his chest, their skin meeting and causing them both to moan softly as Harry pressed his lips to Draco's again.

They fell to the bed finally, Harry quickly flipping them so that he could press himself fully against Draco, easily lining up their hips and grinding down. Draco bit at Harry's lip, their teeth clinking together with the force of their kiss as Harry grinded his hips against Draco's again, their erections straining at the contact.

Harry lifted up slightly to make room for his hands as they reached between himself and Draco, frantically undoing their pants and yanking at the fabric.

Draco laughed breathlessly. "Easy, Harry. You're going to hurt one of us."

"Then help me."

Draco did, and it was pure, lust-driven euphoria when the last of their clothing was gone and Harry could feel every inch of Draco's body against his. He groaned, pulling Draco into him as he kissed those lips once more, forcing himself to slow down and kiss with more love than lust. Their lips melded together as their bodies twisted more onto their sides, legs wrapping around the other's as Harry poured his heart into their embrace.

Harry's hand on Draco's back slid further down, finally cupping the firm arse there and pressing their cocks together between them. Unintentionally, one of Harry's fingers slipped between Draco's cheeks, dragging gently across the entrance within.

A needy groan erupted from Draco's throat as he bucked his hips both forward into Harry and backward into the finger there, vaguely surprising Harry. He pulled his tongue away from its dance with Draco's so he could ask, "Did...was that a good...did that feel good?"

"I..." Draco sounded a bit dazed. "Yes?"

"Not very convincing," Harry breathed. He pushed the pad of his finger at Draco's entrance, firmer and more deliberate. Draco's fingers dug into Harry's skin, hip hips swaying between pushing into Harry's hips and against his finger. "See, now that feels like a definite 'yes'."

Without thinking much more on it as his lips found Draco's again, Harry carefully slipped his finger inside.

Draco hissed, breaking their kiss and thrusting back onto Harry's finger, barely one knuckle inside of him.

"Still good?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "Yeah, just...a bit weird."

Keeping his finger where it was, Harry took his other hand from Draco's waist and move it between them, making sure to drag the fingers across Draco's stomach teasingly. He heard Draco's breath hitch slightly, then he wrapped his hand around Draco's cock and gave it a gentle tug.

Draco's head tilted back as he moaned openly, subconsciously thrusting up into Harry's hand and then back down on his finger. Harry's finger sunk all the way in at the movement, and Draco's muscles tightened around him. But Draco didn't seem uncomfortable, nearing on the exact opposite as he crashed his lips back to Harry's in a desperate kiss. Harry began to twist his hand on Draco's cock, sliding it up and down and keeping his other hand as still as he could while Draco came up and down on his finger.

"Fucking hell," Draco groaned after a minute of this, thrusting his tongue into Harry's mouth.

Harry had been so absorbed in what his hands were doing that Draco's tongue caught him off guard. The hand on and in Draco's arse twitched slightly, crooking his finger and bumping against something deep within that had Draco yelping into his mouth.

"What?" Harry asked in alarm.

"Fuck, do that again."

A bit bewildered but pleased all the same, Harry twisted his finger, again hitting that spot deep inside Draco and eliciting another strangled cry of pleasure from his lover's lips. Draco's cock in Harry's hand twitched, and Harry decided to take things a step further.

He withdrew his finger, making Draco's face fall slightly in disappointment, only to thrust two in at the next moment. Draco's eyes popped open wide, pupils blown.

Draco rocked back and forth between Harry's fingers and the hand on his cock, nails digging through the skin of Harry's back. It was thrilling, watching Draco come completely undone on him, and Harry nearly climaxed on the spot when a hand suddenly wrapped around his own cock. Draco's lips fell to Harry's neck, sucking at the skin below his ear.

"I want..." Draco panted, "I want...I want you."

Harry didn't ask what he meant. "You sure? I...fuck-I don't-"

"I'm asking."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I swear, Harry, if you make me beg-"

"Okay, okay."

Harry withdrew his hand from pumping Draco's cock and kissed him full on the mouth as he shifted Draco to his back and withdrew his other hand. Draco's legs automatically came up slightly as Harry settled himself between them, Draco's hand still sliding up and down his cock with enthusiasm. But when both had pulled their hands away from one another they simply kissed, completely naked with Harry over Draco, it hit Harry exactly what was happening.

Suddenly struck with nerves, Harry placed a hand on Draco's cheek and pulled his face back. Draco's eyes were already open and locked with Harry's. Neither said anything for a couple seconds, both breathing heavily into the space between them.

"I love you," Harry whispered, lining himself up with Draco's entrance. His head touched the skin there, surprisingly more wet than he had anticipated. He didn't expect an answer. He just wanted to make it clear to Draco that this wasn't just something he was handing out on a whim. It meant something to Harry.

But Draco shocked him when he replied, "I love you, too."

A smile crept over Harry's face, and he leaned down to kiss Draco, slow and sensual, as he slid his cock inside him.

There was a sharp intake of air at Draco's lips, breaking their kiss. It was just Harry's head inside of him, but Harry had worried that two fingers wasn't enough to prepare Draco. He stopped, letting the muscles clenching around his cock stretch and relax as Harry continued to kiss Draco's lips softly. Millimeter by millimeter, Harry pressed his way into Draco, kissing him as tenderly as possible along the way. Harry had to keep his eyes closed at the strain on Draco's face, but when he had tried to stop and pull out, Draco had grabbed his hips and held firm, wordlessly asking him to continue.

It took ages, or maybe only a few seconds, but finally, Harry's hips met with Draco's. He was completely inside of Draco, and it was easily the most pleasure Harry had ever endured. It had been excruciating, moving so slowly into such a warm, tight space that hugged his cock in all the right places, and now, Harry had to force himself not to pull back and start thrusting.

"How...how does that feel?" Harry mumbled against Draco's lips.

Draco didn't answer but instead brought his legs up, wrapped them around Harry's waist, and pulled him closer. The low groan that came out of Draco's throat when the tip of Harry's cock pressed against the same spot his finger had touched earlier gave Harry all the answer he needed.

Against all his screaming instincts to fuck Draco into an oblivion, Harry carefully pulled himself partially out, then slid back in just as carefully. The sensation was beyond pleasure, beyond bliss, beyond anything Harry had ever felt. It was the perfect answer to every question he had ever asked, the destination that he felt he had always been seeking. Harry moaned, dropping his face into Draco's chest as he pulled back again, sliding slowly back to that spot that made Draco whimper.

"Dammit, Harry, _move_."

He didn't need to hear anything more.

Picking up speed with each thrust, Harry fucked Draco, losing all gentleness as his climax began to race up on him, the heat in his groin burning as he pressed furious kisses across Draco's chest, neck, cheeks, and lips. Draco's legs stayed around Harry's waist, pulling him deeper every time Harry's cock thrust into him. Moans and sighs and cries blended together, and Harry couldn't even marvel at how quickly he was about to climax when Draco was frantically gasping, "Harry, I'm-"

"Me, too."

The words hardly left his mouth when Harry was orgasming, spilling directly into Draco as Draco came between them. They were both moaning shakily as their bodies twitched with the ride. It was perfect. No amount of Bliss Potion could compare.

Harry's arms shook as he held himself from collapsing onto Draco's messy chest. He took a few breaths as deep as he could, then slid himself, now quite soft, out of Draco. Both of them squirmed slightly at the movement but didn't say anything as Harry grabbed his wand and cleared away the mess on Draco. Only when he was clean and Harry's wand was again discarded did Harry finally flop onto his back beside Draco.

"Maybe we should've taken that a bit slower," Draco panted after a moment.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked. "Did you not...was it not...?"

Draco chuckled. "Relax, Harry, it was amazing. I'm just not going to be able to walk right for a week."

"Why thank you, Draco."

"That was more a comment about the state of my arse, not the size of your dick."

"Ouch."

"That's what I'm saying."

Harry laughed, turning to gaze at the man beside him. It was breathtaking, how beautiful Draco was.

"You said it back this time," he commented.

Draco licked his lips, eyes finding Harry's. "Well...I ought to have the first time."

"You didn't have to."

"I know." Draco pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's lips. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Harry said with a smile.

Nothing else really mattered.


	17. Chapter 17

The first morning back to lessons, Draco felt more refreshed and ready for the world than he had in a long time. Perhaps not his bum, but the rest of him felt in top form. Despite their usual arrangement to not share a bed on the weeknights, Harry had stayed in Draco's dormitory after their rather spectacular evening. It had been nice, just lying together and talking as the sun faded into the horizon and they faded into sleep. Their bodies had overcompensated for them, however, and Draco and Harry both awaken before dawn, giving them plenty of time to sneak Harry out of the Slytherin dungeon and back to his own dormitory.

With so much time on his hands before lessons, Draco had taken a long, hot bath before making his way down to breakfast. It wasn't his usual meal, but Draco was feeling particularly good.

Harry Potter loved him.

And Draco loved him in return.

It was going to be a good day.

Draco tried to keep the foolish smile off his face as he entered the Great Hall. But upon entering, he felt it melt away on its own as dozens of heads whipped around to stare. Furious whispering broke out as Draco made his way to the Slytherin table. Nothing necessarily new, but there was a certain feeling of escalation in the glares and whispers. The renewed anger there was remarkably off-putting.

But as Draco walked to Herbology some ten minutes later and there as a distinctive hiss of "bewitcher!" it became downright unnerving. The term was fairly outdated, and if his memory served him right, Draco was certain that it was meant to be a derogatory term for a witch or wizard used by muggles. He wasn't really sure what was meant by it, but it immediately put Draco on edge.

He walked up to Harry in the greenhouse, tossing his bag under the table as he greeted him.

"You want to hear the weirdest thing I've ever been called?" he asked.

Harry grinned. "Absolutely."

"It was in the corridor just now, someone called me a-"

"Harry, don't fall for it!" called a voice.

Bemused, Harry and Draco glanced over and found a Hufflepuff, a student Draco didn't recognize, peeking into the greenhouse, her eyes wide.

"You're stronger than Malfoy!" She was practically shouting, drawing the entire greenhouse's attention. "Don't let him manipulate you like that!"

"What?" Harry asked, looking just as bewildered as Draco felt.

But the girl left, rushing down the path toward Hagrid's hut for her lesson, leaving the greenhouse uncomfortably quiet. Draco looked back at Harry, who raised his brows.

"Any idea what that was about?"

Draco shook his head. "No, but it might be why someone called me a 'bewitcher' this morning."

"Is that even a real term?"

"No, it isn't," Hermione said, coming over as some of the quiet faded back into conversation, newspaper in hand and Weasley at her back. "But here's what everyone's talking about."

"What do you mean, what everyone's talking about?" Harry asked.

"You missed breakfast," she said, pointing at the paper. "And dinner last night. You wouldn't have noticed yet, but you and Draco are all anyone's talking about, and it's all thanks to whatever idiot at the _Prophet_ wrote this."

Across the front page of the paper that Hermione was offering them, dated nearly a week previous, was the bolded headline:

**The Chosen One: Bewitched?**

Draco's stomach churned at the word printed there, set directly above an enlarged photo. It was initially hard to make out, as it was obviously taken from quite a distance, but the photo was of Draco and Harry, hand in hand, walking through the snow and wind toward a tiny store. Both were smiling and laughing together, entering the store only to return with bags full of what Draco knew to be baby formula.

Harry began to read, his voice confused and annoyed. "'Harry Potter, the Chosen One who defeated You-Know-Who nearing on eight months ago this New Year's, was spotted outside of this corner store near London accompanied by none other than Draco Malfoy, infamous teenage Death Eater and son of Narcissa and the late Lucius Malfoy, both of whom have long been known to be in You-Know-Who's Inner Circle. The photo clearly shows a companionship between the unlikely pair, but it is really as it appears?'"

It was all the front page offered, and Harry looked up with his mouth agape.

"What in the actual-"

"It goes on inside for nearly a full page," Hermione continued crossly. "It talks about how there's no possible way you two could be friends on your own and how the only explanation is that Draco's using Dark Magic to 'bewitch' you, a term that was squashed out nearly a century ago for being too offensive."

"Too offensive? How's it too offensive?" Weasley asked.

"If you ever listened to anything in History of Magic, you'd know why," Hermione snapped. She ran a furious hand through her hair. "I thought the _Prophet_ was done with these kinds of rumor-making articles! This is absolutely ridiculous!"

Draco took the paper from Harry's hands and turned to the inner article.

"Hush up, hush up!" Professor Sprout called as she slammed the door shut behind her. "It's the new year, and your N.E.W.T.s are coming up in a few months! It's time we did some reviewing of the past six years, hm? We'll be spending only a week or two covering the basics of what we've handled thus far, so strap in! For now, find a seat and pull out a quill and parchment. I haven't a board in here, so you better write fast!"

The class scrambled to their seats, hurriedly doing as requested as Professor Sprout took off on a run-through of what they were taught as first years. Draco however, held the paper open under the table he, Harry, Hermione, and Weasley had claimed.

_Con'd from Page 1A ...It's no secret that Harry Potter has forged some questionable friendships in the past, most notably his friendliness with half-giants and werewolves. It is clear, however, that no amount of being too kind-hearted could bring the Chosen One to befriend a well-known and rather outspoken follower of You-Know-Who, despite the family having been suspiciously cleared this previous summer. A once respected name in the community, the Malfoy family has fallen into the dark abyss of shame after the death of their master. Yet, despite the evil that the Malfoys have always carefully concealed from the public eye, it would appear that Harry Potter has decided to befriend their youngest member, Draco._

_But is it as it seems?_

"Draco, stop reading that rubbish," Harry whispered. He wasn't taking any better notes than Draco was, though he had gone as far as to pull out the right materials. "It's just a bunch of gossip. Nothing to worry over."

But Draco needed to know. He skimmed the rest of the article, seeing his own name pop up often as the journalist detailed his known crimes and how he could possibly be using Dark Magic to trick Harry into thinking that they were friends. But when Draco's mother's name began to pop up toward the end of the article, he read it in detail.

_Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, was also acquitted of her crimes during the war this previous summer, leaving her with little gold but a home and her freedom, two things that many think are luxuries for her and her son. With her son seemingly back to his Dark ways, it is only reasonable to believe that Narcissa either began his descent back into Darkness or is at least encouraging his behavior. Such accusations would obviously interest the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which heads such investigations into such criminal activity. It would be crucial to any investigation headed by the department to know whether Narcissa is acting independently or alongside Draco, something that can be learned by a search of the Malfoy Manor in any number of upcoming days and weeks. Should any Dark items or spells targeting Harry Potter be found during any such search, it is undeniable that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would take Narcissa in for a full interrogation. Many in the wizarding community are hoping that these inquires will lead to the re-arrest of Narcissa Malfoy, keeping one more Death Eater from Darkening our world ever again._

The article ended there, and Draco was completely frozen.

"Draco?"

His chest constricted, his mouth dry when he tried to swallow. The paper fell to the floor beneath the desk.

"Draco?" Harry's voice was right in his ear, Harry's hand over his under the desk. "Draco, breathe."

He was trying, but nothing was happening. It was as though the past several months had never happened. Draco was sitting beside Harry in Herbology, trying to gulp down any air his lungs would allow, shaking, fighting the urge to bolt from the room the entire lesson. The only difference was that this time, Harry's hand rested on his knee, gently stroking it in a vain and private effort to comfort him.

That, and this time, Draco wasn't panicking for himself. He was panicking for his mother. She had been nothing short of a miracle for Draco since the moment he was born, always there for him when he needed it, always loving him when no one else would, always the rock that kept his world was falling entirely into madness. Things had been horrid in the past, but they were supposed to be getting better. They were supposed to be moving forward. That was why she had reached out to Andromeda and made them visit her at Christmas. That was what she wanted, to move on with their lives.

And here Draco had thought he had been doing just that. But he had only been digging his mother a grave.

"Draco?"

Panting as quietly as he could, Draco looked up at his name. Harry was still seated beside him, though it looked like the lesson was over. Students filed out of the greenhouse around them. Their whispers and their glares only made Draco shake even more.

"Hey, hey..."

Harry's hand found his, warm and comforting, but Draco ripped his hand away and quickly stood. It was just that sort of behavior that landed him in this position, landed his mother in danger, and he forced himself to look away from the hurt filling Harry's eyes.

"Don't...don't listen to what anyone says." Harry's voice was soft and, though Draco tried not to hear it, sad. "Don't worry about them. These kinds of articles come up and they're complete rubbish. It blows over. Don't let it-"

"You didn't read the whole thing," Draco said, voice quavering. His eyes flickered over to Hermione and Weasley standing at the door, blocking his escape.

"No, but it hardly matters-"

"It matters, Harry!" The anger in his voice startled even Draco, but he couldn't stop. Either the panic was riling him up or he was truly so mad, he wasn't sure, but Draco found himself nearly shouting at Harry in the next moment. "They're looking into my mother! Doing an inquiry! An interrogation, a search! They might even arrest her!"

"But Draco," Hermione said tentatively from the doorway. "They're not-"

"I get that you three are these big heroes that can do no wrong and things would be fair for you, but it's not going to be that way with her!" He grabbed at his hair, breathing labored and legs weak. "I...I did this to her, and I-I-I have to fix it! I can't-I don't-"

"Draco, please-"

But Draco couldn't listen to Harry begging him to stop, begging him to stay. Draco couldn't listen to Harry's voice as he grabbed his things from the table and finally listened to his body, listened to the panic. Pushing his way past Harry's outstretched arm and Weasley standing in the doorway, Draco bolted.

* * *

Harry wasn't melodramatic enough to say that it had been the worst day of his life after Draco left him in the greenhouse, but Harry was melodramatic enough to try and chase after him.

Hermione had grabbed him by the arm, however, stopping him.

"Don't," she had said. "Not right now. Give him a little time."

It hadn't made any sense, but Harry hadn't given chase. Draco had been likely out of his reach by then, anyway.

Harry hadn't seen Draco the rest of the day. He hadn't been at lunch, dinner, the library, or anywhere else Harry could think to look for him, leaving Harry with nothing but haunting thoughts and a runaway imagination that kept making Harry lose Draco over and over again. The worst of it was when Harry sat picking at his dinner, eyes on the Slytherin table, when he realized that it had been roughly 24 hours since he and Draco had lost their virginities together.

Harry wasn't much of a crier, but the thought had brought a hard lump to his throat.

The following morning, after a sleepless night tossing and turning in his bed, Harry was determined to make Draco talk to him in Potions. They were partners. He had to talk to Harry.

"New year, new partners!" Slughorn greeted the class as he stepped into the dungeons. Draco was only just behind him as the doors swung shut. Harry tried to catch his eye, but Draco stared determinedly at the floor and sat at one of the empty tables across the room from where they had sat all year. Slughorn strode past them all to take his place at the front of the room. "Let's hop to it, then! New partners until exams, so make sure you choose wisely."

Eyes still on Draco, who hadn't moved a muscle as the rest of the class began to mingle, Harry made his way over to Ron and Hermione.

"I'd rather not," Ron was groaning.

"It's in your and Harry's best interests."

"What is?" Harry asked. He was still watching Draco stare at his desk.

Hermione grabbed Harry's bag and dropped it onto the desk, then gave Ron his own bag. "You and I will partner, Harry. Ron's going to work with Draco."

That caught Harry's attention. He frowned at Hermione. "And that benefits Ron and me how?"

"If you two partner together, you're going to fail. Between Draco and me, you two stand a better chance. So go, Ron! Slughorn's bound to start the lesson soon."

Disgruntled but apparently unable to form a solid argument against it, Ron left to sit beside Draco. Harry watched as his best friend fell into the seat there, startling Draco a bit, and lean in to speak with him. When Draco nodded at whatever Ron had told him and began to reply back, hot jealously licked at Harry's stomach, making him grimace.

"Sit down, Harry," Hermione said, yanking him down into Ron's abandoned chair. Harry's new seat, one that faced almost directly away from Draco, was likely to be both a blessing and a curse no matter how the next few days went.

"Alright, everyone have their new partners?" Slughorn asked. The class murmured, assenting, and he pressed on. "Excellent! Now, we finished up the differences between categories of brews before the holiday, yes? Yes, I think we rather did alright there. Only one or two didn't make an O on that final assessment before the break. I think you all caught on quite well.

"This next section will focus more on extended potions - potions that require days, weeks, sometimes even months to brew correctly! Now, we haven't the time to properly do a month-or-more-long brew," Slughorn chortled a bit, "but we will be working on a few select potions out of your textbook that require at least two or three weeks of work.

"These particular potions, in addition to their longer stewing periods, also require more specific and unique ingredient details. Some might ask you to drop in a very specified amount only under the light of a full moon. Some may require you to sing to it while you stir. You will likely feel a bit foolish during the next few weeks, but if you put in the work, the reward will be great."

Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"May I ask what reward you had in mind?"

A slimy smile befell Slughorn's face. "Oh, I think that maybe a little extra credit added to your Potions N.E.W.T. score will be enough encouragement for you all."

Excited whispers hissed across the quiet of the dungeon, though Slughorn didn't make to quiet them. He simply beamed back at the class for a moment before waving his wand, instructions appearing on the board.

"Here is the potion I would like you all to start today. This one you will all attempt to make. Next lesson, however, each pair will be assigned something different to tend to in addition to this one. In the upcoming weeks, I will be leaving a key hidden in the doorframe to the classroom so that you may enter as needed to properly tend to your potions. Now, begin!"

Hermione and the rest of the class were already on their feet, setting up cauldrons or collecting ingredients, before Harry even realized that Slughorn had dismissed them to work. He had listened far better than he had expected himself to, but Harry's mind was still occupied with Draco, wondering how the hell things could have gone so wrong so quickly.

"Come on," Hermione said when she returned from the storeroom, arms full of ingredients. She didn't sound as exasperated as he had expected. There was even some sympathy, or maybe just pity, in her eyes. "The potion's not terribly complicated to start, and it'll help take your mind off Draco."

Harry sighed and stood to help her. Hermione's textbook was open to the recipe, her cauldron was already near boiling, and she had all the ingredients they needed, so Harry began chopping up some of the stems as described in the text. Hermione stood beside him, skinning a dark orb.

"Have...have you been able to talk to him?" she asked after a few minutes.

"No. He's been avoiding me."

"Well...maybe he's not avoiding you. Maybe he's just avoiding everybody."

"Which means he's avoiding me."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, then, I suppose technically. I'm just saying that...I don't think this has as much to do with you as you think."

"How do you figure that?"

"For one thing," Hermione said, tipping her orb skins into the cauldron, "it's obvious that he's been nothing but happy with you up until now. For another thing, he's only acting this way because he thinks that being with you in any way is endangering his mum."

"But how the hell would being with me put his mum in danger?" Harry grumbled, stabbing at the stems with a renewed venom.

Hermione put her hand over his, though Harry suspected it was mostly to protect the stems. "You didn't read the article, did you?"

"Er...no."

"It's a load of rubbish, honestly, but it talked a lot about Narcissa Malfoy and what the Ministry might do to her _if_ any Dark stuff was going on." She took her hand off his, eyeing him carefully as Harry started to slice again. "It was a very cleverly worded article. It made all this nonsense about Draco tricking you with Dark Magic into being his friend sound like fact, but it never once said anything was definitive. Even the section about Narcissa, it just mentioned that _if_ these allegations had anything to them that law enforcement would obviously want to check it out, but the author never said that these things were actually happening."

"But...then why is he acting like this?" Harry asked, turning to see Draco. Ron seemed to have taken on Harry's role, chopping and slicing and skinning while Draco tended to the potion. They weren't talking, but Draco looked far more comfortable with Ron than he had with Harry the day before. It made Harry's chest tighten painfully. "Why is he acting like pushing me away is going to make that article not exist?"

"I don't know for sure," Hermione said. "But it might just be that he's scared of doing anything that might get his mum in trouble. They're all they have anymore."

Harry didn't correct her, but he thought about Andromeda and Teddy. He thought about himself.

"Or it might be that he was scared of committing to you and this was just a good excuse to pull away a bit," she said cautiously.

Not after the other night, Harry thought, his heart twisting sadly. He didn't elaborate, but he shook his head. "No, I know that's not it."

Hermione didn't press it. "Or he just might not be well equipped to handle bad publicity. Being a Malfoy's always been a glamorous thing. He's never had a bad article written about him directly like this. You and I know that the media comes and goes and that things blow over, but he just might not have been prepared for it."

That didn't sound completely right, either, though. If that were it, surely Draco wouldn't have pushed Harry away _so_ hard, right? Surely Draco would have wanted Harry's support?

"Or maybe it's some kind of combination," Hermione said. She scooped up the stems Harry had set aside and began adding them and some oils to their cauldron. "But regardless of which one, Harry, I really don't think it has much to do with how he feels about you. Not...not in the bad way, at least."

He was sure that she was right, but it didn't stop Harry's heart from aching the rest of the lesson and it didn't stop him from immediately turning to go talk to Draco when the bell rang. He swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried over, but Draco caught his eye and ran before Harry could reach him. Harry made to follow, but Ron caught him by the bag.

"I wouldn't, mate."

"What? Why?" Harry asked, annoyed. "Why is everyone telling me to leave him alone when he clearly needs some help?"

"We...well, we talked a bit," Ron said, looking uncomfortable. Harry's stomach churned in anticipation and his heart was already beginning to sink when Ron finally grimaced and took a deep breath. "Look, he...I'm sorry, Harry. He said that he just can't do this to his mum. He said that it's over."

The air was ripped from Harry's chest.

There was no way. There was no way that this was happening, Harry thought. It wasn't that he didn't think Draco could ever not love or want him back, nothing that conceited. It wasn't that he didn't think Draco was definitely scared and confused after seeing the article. It wasn't that he didn't expect a bump after that.

It was that Harry didn't want to believe it was happening, that the one things that had brought him out of the depression of war was giving up on him.


	18. Chapter 18

Fire Whiskey literally burned with every swallow, but the pain was something beautiful to Harry. It made him feel, as cliche as he knew that sounded. He snorted into his half-empty glass. He really was being quite pathetic.

It was Friday, the Friday ending the first week after the holiday, and Harry was drunk at the Hog's Head. The clock struck midnight. It was Saturday.

Aberforth hadn't left his post in Hogsmeade after everything that had happened, something that had initially surprised Harry when he had found out. But it made sense, really. Aberforth was kind of a coward, and now that the danger was gone, he would have wanted to return to the familiarity of his dusty old bar and depressing flat so he could continue to mourn Arianna and hate Albus in peace.

What had been a rather pleasant surprise was Aberforth's willingness to serve Harry practically bottomless alcohol after Hogwarts' curfew and out of bounds.

"Eh, you're an adult now," Aberforth had growled after Harry just stared at him for a long time once ordering. "You want to drown your sorrows, be my guest."

So drown his sorrows he had.

Harry was five, no six? Fire Whiskeys into his evening, and he still felt relatively coherent. The world wasn't blurring and spinning as the stories told, at least. No, he was sitting just fine on his nasty barstool, downing his drink in his filthy glass, brooding over Draco bloody Malfoy.

Harry had tried to talk to Draco despite Ron's message. But Draco must have known Harry would do just that and had done a spectacular job of avoiding Harry all week. But by Thursday, real panic and desperation had gripped Harry and he had managed to catch Draco in the corridor near the Slytherin common room, near the place where Draco had finally told Harry that he loved him.

_Harry practically cornered Draco, literally in the corridor's bend. Draco's jaw was clenched as he stared pointedly at the floor._

_Harry's voice shook. "Draco, please-"_

_"I thought I told Weasley to deliver you my message." Draco's voice wasn't cold and sneering as it had once been long ago, but the total lack of emotion there was somehow far worse._

_"He...he did. But I wanted to talk to you. Hear it from you directly."_

_"Fine." Draco swallowed, closed his eyes. "It's over. I'm done. We're done."_

_It took everything in Harry not to sob his reply, though the sorrow was as apparent as though he had. "But...but why? Why, Draco? Just because of that stupid-"_

_"I can't do this to my mother. Now just..." Draco's voice quivered ever so slightly. His eyes didn't open. "Just leave me to my shame in peace."_

_But Harry wasn't ready to give up. That quiver gave him a reckless hope, and he stepped right into Draco's personal space. Draco's eyes popped open and found Harry's._

_"That article wasn't even definitive!" Harry said, half-shouting as he stole Hermione's word. "It was just a bunch of rubbish written to stir up drama and gossip and_ wow _, did it work! Even if there was going to be an actual inquiry, which there_ isn't _, nothing would come of it! So what does it matter?"_

_"That's not the damn point!" Draco shouted back. "Just because you don't have a mother to care about doesn't mean that I can't care about mine!"_

_Sharp hurt stabbed through Harry's heart. The comment likely only stung so much because it was coming from Draco, but it still cut through him like a blade as Draco continued to force Harry away._

_"Now...now get the hell away from me."_

_Draco grabbed Harry by the front of his robes, and for a wild second, Harry was sure that Draco was about to kiss him, apologize, beg for him to come back. But Draco's palms slammed into Harry's chest, shoving him clear across the corridor._

_Harry could have fought back. He should have. But instead, he watched as Draco turned and left him alone in the corridor, left Harry feeling cold and empty._

That had been the last time Harry had spoken to Draco. Harry took another swig of his Fire Whiskey, not even grimacing anymore at the burning against his throat. Maybe he ought to go back to calling him Malfoy.

But damn, that sounded so wrong now.

If Harry were truly honest with himself, and he almost had to be with his current state, he still loved Draco deeply. Nothing could change that overnight. Or over-week. However long it had been since Draco had started to push Harry away with everything he had, both emotionally and physically.

No, Harry still loved Draco and didn't see that changing anytime soon. He was just at a horrible, complete, and total loss as to what he could do.

"You ought to go back up to the castle and get some sleep," Aberforth told Harry when he finished the last of his glass and slammed it onto the bar. It was just him and Aberforth, the Three Broomsticks being a much more popular Friday night choice for drinks.

"You ought to let me have another one."

"Let you? Boy, you know you've been paying me, right?"

"Have I?" Harry laughed once without humor. "Well, give it back."

"You've been in here hardly an hour, knocking back drink after drink without saying a damn word. I get that the war was hard, but why'd you choose now to come drink yourself to death?"

"Because I'm Harry fucking Potter." And because he couldn't believe he had actually said that, Harry giggled.

"Real classy, Potter."

Harry dropped his head onto the bar with a loud thud. _Now_ the world was spinning.

"Hope you're ready to have your backside handed to you."

"Mmm?" Harry didn't even lift his head. He probably could have fallen asleep right there. Or maybe he already had, because suddenly, he could have sworn he heard Professor McGonagall's voice at his back.

"Mr. Potter, what in Merlin's beard are you doing?"

He lifted his head, slower than would likely help his case, and Harry found himself nearly nose to nose with Professor McGonagall.

Wow, was she livid.

"What have you to say for yourself?" she cried, lips practically gone for how thin they were.

Harry shrugged. "Nothing?"

"And you!" she shouted at someone behind Harry. "Serving him! Since when did you serve students? I ought to report you!"

"Report me how? What wrong have I done?"

Right, Harry thought. He was at the Hog's Head with Aberforth. Shit, he really was in trouble if Professor McGonagall had found him there.

"For serving alcohol to students!"

"He's well above legal age, Minerva, and a paying customer. I'd have been a fool to turn him away."

"As always, Aberforth, you are missing the point entirely! Come, Potter. It's back to the castle with you."

Harry's eyes had closed at some point, and Draco was behind his eyelids. Draco was there, hands on him, lips against his, telling him that he loved him.

"Potter!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. Right. He was in trouble. He couldn't remember seeing Professor McGonagall looking so cross. Harry nodded silently at her reddening face, standing clumsily from the barstool. The world gave a violent tilt, and Harry's hands slapped the countertop to keep from falling flat on his face.

"Wow, the world really does...spin when you drink."

"A fascinating discovery," Professor McGonagall snapped.

Harry watched her turn and storm from the bar. He was supposed to follow her, he was sure of it. Harry lifted a hand and waved to Aberforth.

"Night, Abe."

"Don't call me that, and don't come back here."

"See you, Abe!"

Chuckling to himself, Harry stepped outside.

Blast, it was freezing.

"Didn't you wear a cloak?"

"Er...not sure," Harry slurred, teeth beginning to chatter. "Can't remember, Professor."

"Well, perhaps the chill will sober you while we walk."

"I'm personally in favor of flying."

"Come along, Potter."

Harry stood in the snow for a moment before he realized that Professor McGonagall had already begun walking, leaving him several feet behind. He scrambled to catch up to her, slipping on the ice below his numbing feet.

If he wasn't so intoxicated by the Fire Whiskey, Harry might have been terrified of her. But he walked alongside Professor McGonagall through the village, feeling nothing but sadness and confusion at his own personal relationship troubles. Somewhere behind the alcohol, though, he thought he ought to be more concerned with the fact that he was likely moments away from finally being expelled.

When they stepped out of Hogsmeade and onto the path that led to the Hogwarts grounds, Professor McGonagall spoke, her voice far less harsh than it had been in the bar.

"What on earth were you thinking? Not only are you out of bed after hours, you are out of bounds, and drinking, no less!" She sighed. "What were you thinking?"

Fire Whiskey made the drinker honest, and Harry found himself mumbling, "I should just be expelled. I've caused enough trouble at Hogwarts to last a century, at least. I don't know why Dumbledore didn't do away with me in my first year. Wait," Harry rubbed at his eyes. "No, I know why. Needed me, didn't he?"

Professor McGonagall didn't answer right away, letting Harry wonder briefly if she had even heard him. But then, she said gently, "Yes, you have caused quite a ruckus in your time here. But I'm not going to expel you for being human, Harry. Besides, it's far more difficult to be expelled from Hogwarts than the staff lead students to believe."

That would have been nice to know earlier on, Harry thought. But he supposed that was the point.

"This wouldn't have anything to do with the article in the _Daily Prophet_ shortly after Christmas, would it?"

Harry scowled at the snow. "I thought the Ministry would've done away with all the idiots there."

"Well, the Ministry doesn't legally have any real authority over the papers, though I quite agree with you. But you ought to know that there is no actual investigation happening. No one with any reason could truly believe that Mr. Malfoy or his mother would risk imprisonment simply to befriend you."

"Tell that to Draco," Harry muttered. "Maybe he'll listen to you and stop being a total arse and let himself be happy for once. Let me be happy."

They had reached the castle steps, and Harry slipped his way into the entrance hall behind Professor McGonagall. The castle was hardly considered warm, but without the wind slapping Harry repeatedly, it felt as though stepping into a furnace. He sighed contentedly.

"Come. We have quite a few staircases to climb."

Harry groaned. He was still quite unsteady, leaning hard on the railings of each staircase, and he thought longingly of his bed that was so very far away.

"You know, Mr. Potter, I must say that I am rather proud of your maturity this year."

Harry snorted, the sound echoing in the quiet castle. "Professor, 'm pretty sure I'm pissed and was just caught out of bounds."

"As accurate a summation as that is," she said, fixing him with a stern look, "I was more meaning your maturity in regards to Mr. Malfoy."

"I didn't know falling in love required any level of maturity."

Professor McGonagall's brows shot to her hairline. Harry wondered if he had said something offensive but found that he couldn't remember.

"Be that as it may," she said slowly after a moment, "like you, Mr. Malfoy was forced into several impossible situations with terrible choices, many of which I am certain he has regretted since the moment he made them."

"Mmm," Harry hummed, trying to keep his eyes open. He thought they might be in the corridor that held the Fat Lady. Sweet bed, so close.

"I would encourage you not to be too harsh a judge of Mr. Malfoy's fear."

"I wasn't," Harry grumbled. He was leaning against a wall. When had that happened? "I just thought we were past all the fear, is all."

A thin but strong hand gripped his arm and pulled him back to his feet.

"Oftentimes, Mr. Potter, people forget themselves when they believe their loved ones are in danger," she said gently. "I can think of a few times when you acted rashly, thinking someone you loved was in trouble."

There were so many times, Harry thought. Professor McGonagall might know more than she let on, but when it came to how foolish Harry was apt to act when his friends were in danger, she had little idea. Harry's memories swirled like a terrible concoction of every dumb decision he had ever made, most prominent among them the night he had lost Sirius. Tears sting at his eyes, though he tried to blink them away. Harry realized only then that they were, in fact, in front of the Fat Lady.

"I just..." Harry hiccuped. "I just was finally happy again. I...I wasn't ready to let it go."

Professor McGonagall patted his arm. "Things will either work out or they won't, but you ought to give Mr. Malfoy more time than a few days to think things through and find out how his mother is doing."

"That's so long, though."

"It might be, yes." The Fat Lady swung open her portrait, and Harry felt himself being gently pushed through. "Now off to bed with you. And if I catch you out of bed after hours again, I _will_ expel you."

Smiling sadly as he made his way to his bed, Harry wasn't entirely sure if he believed her.

* * *

During his relatively brief time with Harry, Draco hadn't completely lost his ability to be a target in the corridors. The attacks had simply been drastically reduced when students realized that he was harder to be caught alone. But the day he had ran from the Potions classroom, leaving Weasley to break things off with Harry for him, Draco had been caught by an excited group of Gryffindor fifth years that hexed him enough to skip Ancient Runes so Madam Pomfrey could remove the dozens of painful piercings that had popped up all over his face. It had been a dark reminder that Draco had lost Harry and his protection.

Draco had vaguely wondered that, even if he and Harry hadn't stopped being around one another, if it would have been enough to keep others from trying to get to him after the article. The student body's general annoyance at his mere existence had escalated into outright fury that he would do something so horrid as bewitch their beloved Chosen One. It only took one day for Draco to start avoiding the bathrooms during passing periods and hurrying to the safety of his dormitory the moment he hadn't a lesson to attend.

Which was why he had excused himself in the middle of his Ancient Runes lesson the second Tuesday after break to use the bathroom in peace. But peace didn't come with his return journey.

"Hey, bewitcher!"

Draco slowed to a stop at the shout. He had learned early in the year that running only made things worse. Turning slowly on the spot, Draco found himself face to face with three furious but shockingly tiny Ravenclaws. The top of the tallest one's head wouldn't have bumped Draco's chin. Though his chest began to heave with anticipation, he couldn't help but wonder how old they were. Maybe he lucked out and they weren't old enough to do much damage.

"There's something really wrong with you, you know that?" the tallest one shouted, tilting her head up to make sure Draco could see just how angry she was. "Harry's been through enough without you going on and pulling some Dark Magic on him!"

"I haven't-"

"Harry's a thousand times the person you could ever hope to be, and he doesn't deserve to be drug through the dung by you!"

A terrible sadness welled up inside Draco's chest as he nodded.

"You need to learn a lesson like your evil dad and your stupid mum."

Draco's head snapped up. "What do you mean, like my mother?"

The little girl looked startled for a moment, then smirked. "I hear the Ministry's due to arrest her any day now. Guess your evil family's secret is out. Again. I bet they come for you next."

Terror gripped Draco's heart, squeezing it tight in his chest as he began to struggle for breath. But he could only take a few weak gasps for air when the little girl shouted, " _Levicorpus_!" as she pointed her wand at his feet.

His ankles were snatched by an invisible force, ripping Draco from the ground and pulling him high into the air and smacking his head against the stone floor in the process. The little Ravenclaws laughed when Draco's robes fell around his face, casting him into darkness.

Either the Ravenclaw was, in fact, too young to hold the spell for long or she simply had finished with her fun, but the spell was lifted rather abruptly and Draco crashed to the ground in a heap. His head hit first, filling his vision with stars. Small feet kicked at him, nothing compared to the angry pain in his head.

"Stay away from Harry!" the little girl shouted, her voice fading down the corridor, as Draco frantically made to pull his robes from around his face.

He was bound to have a terrible headache later, but Draco was astonished at his luck. He could have been found by much angrier, much older students that could have blown his skull to pieces correctly. His relief was short-lived however, when the little girl's words echoed in his throbbing head.

_"I hear that the Ministry's due to arrest her any day now."_

Draco found his feet, head swimming, and took off down the corridor. He wasn't going back to class. No one would miss him, anyway. He tore through the castle, barreling into the Slytherin common room and hastily finding a spare quill and piece of parchment.

**Mother,  
I should have written you when I first saw the article in the ** **_Prophet_ ** **. I stopped my friendship with Potter in hopes that would keep anything from coming of it. I just heard from another student that you've been inquired and are due to be arrested and I am so very sorry, Mother. I hope it isn't true. I'm sorry for ever having tried to be friends with Potter and causing all this mess for you, especially after everything you've done for me. Please write and tell me what's happening and if you are alright, or if my stupidity has ruined your life even more than I already have.**   
**Love,**   
**Draco**

The letter didn't do Draco's torrent of emotion any justice, but he didn't want to waste anymore time than he already had by not reaching out to her the moment he had seen the article more than a week previous. Rolling the parchment as he ran, Draco hurried to the Owlery.

The bell rang as he passed the Great Hall. Draco swore, spinning and taking a different route that would be less crowded with students making their way to lunch. Tears burned at his eyes as he stepped into the frigid wind, finally reaching the Owlery. He quickly found the only horned owl and sent it off with his letter. Only then did Draco finally succumb to the tears.

Several moments passed. Draco wiped at his eyes, the cold wind turning them to ice on his cheeks and tearing at the skin there. It was enough to give his frightened sorrow pause, a rare relief for Draco in the past several days.

"Uhm...Draco?"

He straightened quickly, turning. But it was only Hermione, pink in the cheeks and eyes wide with concern. She held Draco's bag out to him.

"You...you left this in Ancient Runes," she said. "When you didn't come back, I thought something might have happened. But some Slytherins I asked saw you writing a letter and said you'd probably be here."

"Right. Uh...thank you." He reached out and took his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he made to step around Hermione. "I, uh...I have to-"

"You don't have to run from us, you know."

He stopped to look at her. Hermione bit her lip but looked determined all the same.

"No one else's opinion matters. You're in control of your own happiness, you know. Aren't...aren't you miserable now?"

Draco closed his eyes, not wanting to see the genuine worry in her eyes. Worry over his happiness. "It doesn't matter. I...I can't let myself be happy when it might be costing my mother her life and freedom."

"But there's no possible way anyone could think she's done anything Dark!" Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "Not anyone who isn't some dim-witted gossip stirrer anyway."

Draco inched around her. "I can't take the risk of that not being true."

And he took to the stairs and fled to the grounds.

Finally alone, with the last of his adrenaline that had been fueling him fading, Draco was hit with how weak he felt. After a few weeks of sleeping and eating almost properly, Draco's abrupt about-face back to skipping entire days' worth of meals and missing out on all but a few precious minutes of sleep each night had apparently decided to catch up with him. His knees shook and his vision clouded, graying around the edges as dizziness muddled his brain. He slammed into a pillar, leaning hard before sliding to the frozen earth below.

He was back to being totally alone.

The thought struck him, terrifyingly accurate if his mother was indeed on her way to Azkaban. What had Draco if his mother was taken from him? He had already been stripped of whatever he had called friends before the war, his father was dead, any relatives he had always known were imprisoned or dead, and he was rapidly approaching the point of no return with pushing away the friends he had managed to make this year...

The muscles in Draco's chest were far too tight. He couldn't move his chest enough to draw a full breath even if he hadn't already been struggling. Fear tickled at his consciousness, whispering in his ear that if he died right then and there, he'd be dying completely alone. No one would bat an eye at the sight. Many would probably cheer.

But such thoughts were only adding wood to the fire that was Draco's remounting panic, slashing away at his ability to breathe correctly, drawing shut his vision so that he could only see pinpricks of what was directly in front of him. Unconsciousness was creeping upon him quickly, and Draco wondered if he was going to die from the lack of oxygen or simply black out there in the snow.

Hands were on him then, grabbing at him and forcing him back into the sitting position that he had fallen from at some point. Sure he was being attacked, found alone and weak on the grounds, Draco tried to pull back, choking on his own failed attempts to breathe. Maybe he ought to let them finish him off.

But Draco's attacker was far more gentle than they should have been if they were hoping to do him in, and Draco wondered if he was hallucinating when there were two warm hands pressing into his chest, not enough to hurt but enough to ease some of the tension in the strained muscles there.

"Shh...breathe."

It was _Harry_.

Too wound up and too lost in his panic to care, Draco felt himself relax marginally at the sound of Harry's voice in his ear, breathing in stuttered bits of air that contained _him_. The world around them didn't seem to exist, though Draco knew part of that was due to how close to fainting he was. It was just Harry and him, feet and legs freezing in the snow as Draco forced himself to breathe as deeply as he could, shaking with every inhale.

"Remember to hold it a bit after you breathe in," Harry murmured.

Draco did, his lungs protesting at the air trapped there, but upon releasing, Draco's vision cleared considerably. He could see the dark fabric of Harry's cloak in front of him, his pink face just inches from his own.

"Again, come on."

Draco drew in another breath, holding it before exhaling, again marveling at how much his vision sharpened. This continued for what felt to be hours, Draco deliberately breathing as slow and carefully as he could, seeing more and more with each one, his shaking becoming less from panic and more from the cold. Even some of his lightheadedness seemed to fade as Draco came out of his panic, giving him the strength to lift his head enough to look Harry directly in the eye.

He hadn't forgotten, but Draco was still blown away with how green those eyes were.

"I..." Harry swallowed, licking his lips. He dropped his gaze and pulled his hands from Draco's chest. The wind whipped at the warmth there, stealing it in an instant. Harry cleared his throat, and his voice was flat when he said, "I'm glad you're alright. I'll just...I'll leave you alone now."

Without waiting for an answer, Harry stood and walked toward the castle. He didn't once turn and look back, and it absolutely shattered what little was left of Draco's heart.

Then again, after all Draco had done and said, he deserved it.


	19. Chapter 19

"You're being an overdramatic moron."

"Okay."

"You're not even listening to me, are you? You're being stupid. Just go back to being happy and eating and sleeping and not moping around all the time already."

Draco sighed, setting his quill down to rub at his temples. Karen had picked up on the changes in Draco's life, apparently, and had taken it upon herself to snap him back into what she had deemed his 'top form.' What it really was, though, was Karen catching Draco when he was trying to do his homework, this time in the library, and violently whispering at his elbow and keeping him from actually accomplishing anything.

"Come on, you can't do this to yourself," she pressed as he looked at her. "Go back to being friends with those Gryffindors and be happy again."

"No."

"That's not even an answer."

"It literally is."

"Ugh! You know what I mean." Karen crossed her arms and huffed, her breath turning a few pages of Draco's open textbook.

"Look, I'm trying to do my homework. I'm behind enough already, so give it a rest. You're too young to understand anyway."

"I am not too young to understand."

"You're being childish."

"No, you are!"

"Shhh!" Madam Pince, popping out of the shelves themselves it seemed, shushed them furiously. "This is a library, not a gossip spot! Quiet!"

Skulking away, the angry librarian shot them a few more glares over her shoulder before turning down one of the aisles in search of more wrongdoers. Draco bent back over his work.

"Josh is sorry for what happened, you know."

Despite himself, Draco scoffed. "I find that a bit hard to believe."

"Really! He's just a stupid Gryffindor with too much pride to actually apologize." Karen rolled her eyes, her arms coming uncrossed as she leaned closer to Draco. "But he is, and that's saying a lot. Not everyone is as backward as the _Prophet_ makes it sound, you know. I'd bet more people than you think aren't that messed up."

Draco just shook his head. Surely he hadn't been so naive at eleven.

"You can't just be miserable forever."

Oh, how very wrong she was, Draco thought. If anything, he owed it to the world to remain unhappy for the rest of his days.

"Your mum wouldn't want you to be sad on her account."

"Just shut up," Draco hissed. He had been patient so far, but enough was enough. He slammed his book shut and began to gather his things. "You don't know a damn thing about my mother, and you don't know a damn thing about me, so just shut up and fuck off already."

Karen's face flushed, but she stood when he did, glaring daggers at him from a foot below.

"You can be as mean and nasty as you want," she said, screwing up her face against the tears in her eyes. "And you can push everyone away as much as you'd like, but that doesn't change the fact that you're exactly what you apparently don't want to be - a good person that deserves not to be treated like absolute shit all the time!"

Madam Pince whipped around the shelves, eyes bulging. "What did I tell you?!"

Karen glared at Draco until a single tear finally splashed onto her cheek. "Whatever. I was just leaving."

And without another word, yet another person left Draco. He stood there, bag halfway packed and Madam Pince wheezing on his neck, feeling renewed guilt and misery. Karen was just a child trying to do right by someone she thought of as a friend. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings so deeply. Draco sighed, feeling incredibly old as he left the library. Maybe he could finish his homework in the dormitory.

\---

It had been ridiculous to think that he could have accomplished anything in his room. Draco's eyes had only continued to drift to his bed, heart aching at the memory of the last time Harry had been there with him, eventually causing him to sob into his Transfiguration textbook only after half an hour. Why had he allowed himself to fall so hard and so deeply?

It wasn't even just homework that Draco's bed ruined for him. Nightmares of his mother's face in Azkaban kept him awake enough, but the mere feel of his bed beneath him brought images and sensations too wonderful not to be painful. Between the two, Draco's sleep had reached an all-time low, rendering him useless in his lessons and the perfect target for anyone that still hated him.

Which was most of the school.

Draco's legs dangled off the Astronomy Tower. He had remembered his cloak this time, something he had been apt to forget as sleep deprivation crushed his brain. The winds were still harsh. Draco was still cold.

He wondered if he ought to just fall.

Maybe his death would bring his mother some peace from whatever might be happening at home. Maybe his death would atone for the heinous things he had done with his life. Maybe his death would help clear away some of the Darkness that was left in the world.

But Draco wasn't a complete fool. For all his avoidance of those that were desperately trying to tell him the truth, he knew that it was somewhat outrageous to think that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was after his mother because he had made a friend in Harry Potter. It wasn't entirely plausible, though what Draco had told Hermione was the truth - he couldn't take the risk that his choices weren't affecting his mother the way the media had detailed. They were all each other had. Draco would be damned if he was going to cause her any more trouble.

No, he couldn't fall. Not that night, anyway. It had only been a day since he sent his mother that letter pleading with her to let him know that she was alright. If all was well and she were to return his owl as fast as she could, it would still be another day until he heard from her. No, Draco would have to wait. He needed to know of her fate before he could decide his own.

Still, he resented the wait. He was eager to find his peace, one way or the other.

* * *

Harry rested his head in his hands at breakfast Thursday morning, trying to keep himself awake so he wouldn't be late to Potions while also wishing he could just fall asleep there at the table. He hadn't slept much since Draco had officially broke things off with him and shoved him in the corridor, but Harry had been true to his word to Professor McGonagall and hadn't left his dormitory at night anymore. It was bad enough when Harry had been filled with a righteous fury over being rejected for something he saw as trivial, but now Harry was actually listening to Hermione and the headmistress, being mature and giving Draco the space he obviously wanted.

Being mature was way worse.

Harry hadn't been able to stop himself from helping Draco when he had found him near unconsciousness in the snow the other day. He had stopped and helped without thinking, falling easily into the role and relishing in the contact he was able to have with Draco. Harry didn't regret a second of it. Bringing Draco back from the brink of collapse was the least Harry could do for him. It had been most relieving when Draco hadn't pushed him away, but Harry had made sure not to overstay his welcome, leaving Draco there in the snow once his breathing had returned to normal.

 _That_ was what Harry regretted.

"Hey, Harry, how're you doing?"

Harry raised his head, blinking sleepily at the unfamiliar voice. Irritation prickled as a younger student, probably a fourth or fifth year by the looks of her, eyed with with concern and stood entirely too close. He knew what she was doing there.

"Just bloody brilliant, thank you," he croaked sarcastically, rubbing his eyes.

The girl sighed with relief and smiled, glancing at her friends that had followed her. "I'm so glad to hear that. I can't imagine what it must feel like...what you're going through."

"Losing my best mate because people can't get their heads out of their own arses?" Harry snapped. The girl leaned back in surprise. "Yeah, it's pretty terrible, let me tell you."

"Oh no, the magic hasn't entirely worn off yet, has it?" she asked sympathetically. "I can only imagine what it'd feel like to be coming out from such a spell for so long...I'm sure I'd be a bit grouchy, too."

"A bit grouchy? I'm-"

"Once you've completely come down from the spell, I suspect you'll be quite happy the Ministry's done their investigation." The girl scowled. "Honestly, I can't believe the Ministry even let one of their kind come back to Hogwarts! What were they thinking, letting two Death Eaters go free? They're just plain evil-"

"WILL YOU JUST BUTT OUT?" Harry shouted, finding his feet. The little group around him leapt back at his sudden outburst. "Draco and his mother are...his mother was never even a Death Eater! At least get your facts straight if you're going to be a bigoted git! Draco is _nothing_ you could ever understand. You're pathetic for believing everything you read."

There was a pause, most of the girls awkwardly fidgeting with their bags or their hair, but several shared pitying looks. The girl who had spoken before just sighed and patted his arm.

"You'll feel better soon, Harry."

Nothing would have satisfied Harry more than to have punched her square in the face, grabbed her and physically shook the stupidity out of her. But Harry just ground his teeth and stomped out of the Great Hall, eyes and whispers following him as they always did. It was infuriating, exhausting, and depressing to not just hear about how gullible people could be but to also stare it in the face day in and day out.

Easily the first to arrive in the dungeons, Harry slammed his bag onto his desk and threw himself into the chair, breathing hard.

Had he even killed Voldemort? Had the war even ended? Had Harry walked on shaking legs into the Forbidden Forest to literally die for the wizarding world for this? For those who were more victims than villains to be cleared only to be hunted and torn down by the ignorant, hateful masses? Things were supposed to change for the better, not stay exactly the same.

"Quite the scene, mate."

Harry shot Ron a glare, who shrugged.

"Don't give me that look, you know I'd have backed you up if you'd have just waited two minutes for me to get there."

"Why were you and Hermione late, anyway?"

"We weren't late. You were early." Ron dropped into the seat next to Harry.

"Then..." Harry checked his watch. "That has to be a record-fast breakfast you just ate. Did you even taste it?"

"I skipped it."

Harry's mouth fell open and he forgot his anger for a moment. "I'm sorry, but what? Ron Weasley, skipping a meal? I don't remember that going too well last year."

Ron smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up, I'm trying to be here for you. You know, in your time of need or whatever."

"Hermione make you?"

"No, I actually chose to this time."

"I'm feeling the love."

Ron rolled his eyes, but his smile fell slightly when they came back round to Harry. "Honest, though, Harry. I wouldn't have picked Malfoy for you to decide to go gay for-"

"You don't _go gay_ , Ron-"

"But," Ron said loudly, "with how happy you two prats made each other, it was hard not to be okay with it. You were a sopping, depressed mess after the war."

Harry frowned. "I think everyone was, not just me."

"You were worse, trust me. Always brooding up in Percy's room, hardly saying a thing, only eating when Mum practically force-fed you. It was miserable just being near you."

"Wow, thanks."

"But Malfoy kind of turned that around. Even before you guys were talking and I...well, before I really noticed it, I could tell that something about being back here was bringing you out of the cloud you had over you all summer. I thought it was just being back at Hogwarts, but I think it was something about Malfoy all along."

Harry raised his brows. "You know, you're more observant than Hermione gives you credit."

"I've been telling everyone that for years." Ron grinned. "But for real, Harry. You came out of it, and now that all this crap with Malfoy and the _Prophet_ 's happened, I'm...well, to be honest, you look like you're going back. I just...I'm here, mate. Whatever you need."

Deep affection for Ron rushed Harry. With everything that had ever happened in their eight years of friendship, it was a bit of a wonder that they were still friends, yet it was because of everything that they were. Ron knew Harry better than probably anyone, except maybe Hermione only because of her persistence. It was easy, Ron's friendship, and it was nice to be reminded that no, not everyone was a completely ignorant git.

Harry smiled. "Thanks. Really."

Footsteps echoed outside the door, signaling that the start of class was due soon. Ron gathered his bag and stood to move to his own desk.

"He's being an idiot, you know," Ron said

"I know."

"Hermione thinks he's scared and all this other rubbish, but I think he's just being a git. Not sixth-year-Malfoy-trying-to-get-a-load-of-Death-Eaters-into-Hogwarts git, but still a git."

"I..." The doors opened, giving entrance to most of their class. "Thank you, I think."

Ron shrugged as he walked away, leaving Harry considerably less angry and less exasperated when Hermione sat down with her textbook already open in her hands.

Harry loved her, but Potions wasn't quite the same with Hermione as a partner, least of all with Harry having to have his back to Draco. The class had been working constantly on their two extended potions, though for Harry, most of it had been watching Hermione make sure everything was going as expected and taking notes on everything she did.

"I'll bet you anything Slughorn assigns us some sort of essay once these potions are complete," she had said last lesson.

Without much argument against that logic, Harry had agreed and was now more or less Hermione's auditor. As Slughorn began their lesson and started going around to inspect everyone's potions so far, Harry pulled out his notes and quill. But Hermione was just stirring, so Harry set them on the desk and moved around their table with the guise of seeing better into their cauldron, though his eyes were on Draco.

He looked absolutely dead on his feet, skin even taking on a gray tinge in the past couple days.

"I think he's sinking back into a depression," Hermione said when she saw where Harry's eyes were. "How have you been doing lately?"

"I've been giving him all the space he could ever want and it's absolutely awful."

Hermione nodded knowingly. "I think he wrote his mum a letter the other day. He left Ancient Runes and didn't come back, and I found him in the Owlery. He's sure to be worried about her if he's caught wind of any more rumors."

"And that's all they are, right?" Harry asked, remembering the girl from that morning. "Just rumors? There's nothing to them, you don't think?"

"It would just defy logic and the justice system. I know it used to be all over the place," she said, correctly interpreting Harry's frown, "but I have a lot more faith in it now that Kingsley's Minister of Magic. Besides, if they were doing any of the things that are being whispered around, there'd be more than just one vague article about it."

"You don't think they'd try to hide it for whatever reason?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not like they used to. The _Prophet_ obviously is still alright with printing gossip, but they're not going to hide anything or report blatant lies anymore. That's why the article had been written as it had."

"Hermione," Harry said, confused. "How could you possibly say or believe that after...everything?"

"I was asked to help oversee some of the administrative changes there over the summer."

"What?"

Hermione gave a self-satisfied smirk. "Oh, yes. I think they overheard my name through Rita Skeeter, though it didn't work out the way she had probably thought it would. Instead, I helped write some of the new rules for publishing there and helped draft a few laws that will hopefully be in effect in the next few months about honesty in the press."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Why is that so strange? We were all asked to take part in changes all over the place."

"Yeah, but I was never asked to write any new laws." Harry shook his head, smiling. "You're really something, Hermione."

"Thank you."

They worked in silence for a few minutes, though Harry spent most of his time watching Draco and Ron work together. Neither were talking much, but it looked so...relaxed. Not something Harry ever thought he'd see between Draco and Ron, especially considering that the last time they had Potions partners, back in third year when Draco had been faking an arm injury. Harry smiled at the memory, fond now despite being infuriating at the time.

But that was a long time ago, when Harry and Draco hated each other. Back when it had been easy to ignore or be ignored by Draco and not give it a second thought. Harry sighed. It would be easier if he could just hate Draco again, instead of missing him like the lovestruck teenager he apparently was.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Hermione said. Harry looked over at her and she, too, was watching Draco sadly. "It can't be fun now, but all these rumors about him and his mum...well, that's all they are. Just rumors made up and started to try and hurt them."

"Right," Harry said. "You'd think whoever started the rumor gave a damn about me, but apparently not."

"What do you mean?"

"If they started all this just to hurt Draco, they didn't give thought to how this is hurting me, too."

Hermione didn't reply.

All in all, it had been a miserable first two weeks of the new year, and Harry was quite glad when Friday's lessons were over. Despite the disaster of the previous weekend, Harry wondered if he could get away with another sneaky visit to Hogsmeade. He doubted Professor McGonagall would be keeping too sharp an eye out. Far more likely to impede him was Aberforth refusing to serve him after the trouble Harry had caused.

He rubbed his eyes as he made his way up to the library alone. Hermione had been quite excited by the idea of kicking off their weekend doing homework, but Ron's begging not to skip two meals in one day had her begrudgingly waving goodbye to Harry as they parted ways, leaving him to trek through the castle alone. Homework was the furthest thing from his mind these days, but as he had already neglected the mountain that had accumulated thus far, he figured he ought to try and make a dent in it before his marks began to suffer.

Luna was stepping out of the library as Harry drew nearer. Those orb-like eyes turned on him and a wide smile spread across her face.

"Hello, Harry."

"Hey, Luna," he said as he came up to her. "Been alright?"

"Oh yes, it's been a most wonderful term. I've never had so many people be kind to me!"

"Er...good."

"And how have you been?"

Harry shrugged. "Been fine."

"No, you haven't," she said matter-of-factly. "But I appreciate your chivalry."

"You're welcome?"

"Yes, thank you, thank you." Luna pulled an outrageously ornate feather from her bag and offered it to him.

Completely bewildered, Harry took it, quirking a brow at her. "Luna...what is this?"

"The first mature tail feather of an exotic creature called a Skeleton Parrot. They bring good fortune. I've carried it with me most of term, which is why I suspect so few people have been as cruel to me as in the past, but I think your troubles with Draco are in some need, don't you?"

Harry was pretty sure that the feather in his hand was just the feather of a regular parrot, but he didn't say so.

"You must be missing Draco as much as he's missing you. You both look downright awful these days."

"Have you been able to talk to him?" Harry asked. His voice dipped into some of his just barely quelled desperation, but Luna didn't seem bothered as she nodded.

"Some, though I think he's rather avoiding me the same as he's avoiding everyone right now. But I needn't talk to him to know that of course he's missing you terribly. Otherwise, he wouldn't be pulling away so hard."

"He just thinks that staying away from us...staying away from me will keep his mum safe."

Luna nodded. "That is a large part of it."

"A large part? I think that's the whole reason he's pushing away as much as he is."

"Oh, I think not," Luna said serenely. "Of course, this all began with his mother, but he's only being so dramatic because of how much you mean to him."

Harry's brows furrowed, trying to make sense of what Luna was saying. It was reminiscent of when he had first kissed Cho and Hermione seemed to know every single wild reason as to why Cho had been crying during it. He never had really grasped all of that, either.

"Think about it," Luna continued. "If Draco didn't care much for you, he'd have been able to just ignore you and go back to calling us all by our surnames. Instead, he's actively avoiding all of us, you especially. If he thought he could be anywhere near you and not do exactly what he fears is costing his mother her freedom, he'd do it. It hurts him too much to be around you and not care."

"How..." Harry ran a hand through his hair, forgetting that he was holding Luna's ridiculous feather until it slapped him in the face. "How could you possibly know all that? Did he tell you?"

It was dangerous, the hope that was flaring deep in Harry's chest.

"Oh, Harry, it's really quite obvious if you know anything at all about love." Luna's smile brightened at Harry's silence, as though he had somehow given her the perfect response. She hooked her arm in his and began to drag him down the corridor. "Come, let's go to dinner. You shouldn't skip too many meals, you know."

And because of the hope now resting cautiously in his heart, or maybe just because he was rather hungry, Harry didn't object.


	20. Chapter 20

Draco was pretty certain that his nose was broken after falling spectacularly down an entire flight of stairs. Well, it had less to do with falling as it had to do with the badly aimed Disarming Spell that hit him square in the back as he made his way down toward the dungeons. Studying that morning had gone surprisingly well for all his differing deprivations, but Draco's reputation found him within moments of the library door shutting quietly behind him.

"Ugh," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose tenderly. He winced at the pain. Something wet bubbled within when he tried to breathe through his nose, and Draco opened his eyes to see blood drops on the floor in front of him.

Just great.

Not that anyone would care that he was bleeding, but Draco hated sporting bloodstains. He hadn't even a napkin to wipe any of it up, so he stood, keeping his head tilted back just enough to keep from dripping more blood onto the floor, and started to collect his things. Some of his books were as far as the top of the staircase.

" _Accio book_ ," he muttered, hand outstretched to receive his Arithmancy textbook.

Four days was a long time to wait for what should have been a quick letter. Draco's nerves were shot from the anticipation, waiting every morning for the horned owl to return. But the week had ended and Draco had still yet to receive a reply with the Saturday morning post. Though he had been keeping an eye out for any further news in discarded copies of the _Prophet_ he could find, Draco needed to hear it from his mother that she was okay.

Draco stepped into the nearest bathroom to clean himself up a bit. There wasn't as much blood as he had assumed, much to his relief, and though his nose didn't appear to be visibly broken, Draco was likely to have a wicked bruise on the bridge the following day. He splashed some water on his face and wiped the blood from his skin. His hands shook.

He hadn't felt much more panic since his last attack. The attack that Harry had come to help him.

Switching off the tap, Draco braced himself on the sink and let his head hit the mirror. His neck was tired from holding it up for so long. He wondered if he could be so lucky as to just die of starvation right then and there in the bathroom. It would save his mother the trouble of seeing the horribly twisted version his body would become after a leap off the Astronomy Tower.

Banging filled the bathroom suddenly. Draco leapt back from the sink, looking around.

"Draco? I know you're in there, now come out!"

It was Karen, being as obnoxious as ever as she shouted at him through the bathroom door, knocking continuously. Suppressing the urge to groan, Draco went to the door and stepped out into the corridor, nearly bowling the little first year over in the process.

"Finally!"

Draco raised his brows at her. "Finally? You had only just started attacking the door."

She put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, but I only started knocking because you weren't answering me. I called your name many times!"

Had she? Draco didn't remember hearing her. Maybe he was hungrier than he thought.

"It never crossed your mind that the bathroom was empty?"

"No, I just saw you go in a minute ago."

"That's creepy."

"I was going to wait for you to come out on your own," she said, shooting him a glare. "But you were taking forever. I have a letter for you."

Draco, who had been staring at the floor, world mildly spinning, snapped his eyes to hers. "What?"

"Yeah. I saw the owl on the grounds and thought it was pretty, so I went to pet it, and it had a letter with your name on it." Karen offered a rolled piece of parchment out to him.

It was his mother's handwriting.

"The owl wasn't too happy letting me take it, but I tried to tell it that I knew you and would make sure it got to you-"

Draco carefully took the letter from her. "Thank you. I...I've been waiting for this."

"Of course, Draco. We're friends, after all. What are friends for?"

Draco frowned. "I don't recall being the nicest to you the last time we spoke."

"Well, no. You were being an arsehole and owe me an apology."

"You really swear too much to actually be eleven, you know."

"Apology accepted!" Karen smiled at him. "Are you going to eat lunch today?"

"Uh..." Draco thought about facing the Great Hall, the angry stares, the furious whispers. Harry, sitting on the opposite side of the room, his back likely to him. "No, I don't think I will."

"Then I'm glad I stole to the kitchens earlier."

"What?"

"I went to the kitchens," Karen said, grinning mischievously. "I overheard some Hufflepuffs talking about how to get in last week and thought I'd try it. Anyway, the house elves are fantastic! They'll make you a whole feast if you ask!"

"Surely you didn't."

"No, but I did ask them for some hot chocolate. But today, I went there and asked them to make and deliver a lunch to your dormitory. I...after you shouted at me in the library, I was pretty angry with you. Which I had every right to be," she said with a brief narrowing of her eyes. "But, I also realized that you're just sad and tired and probably hungry, too, so I thought I'd try and help out."

"By stealing food?" Draco teased.

"By kindly requesting you a private meal so you could actually eat something."

It was...too much. He really had become a pathetic fool, Draco thought as he stooped down to give Karen a hug. She was absolutely tiny, but her arms still went fully around his middle when she returned the embrace. Perhaps Karen had a point and he did need to eat more. He thought he might actually snap in half at her tight squeeze.

He pulled back and held her at arm's length. "Thank you."

She smiled back. "Of course. Now let me go - I'm late for lunch!"

Draco chuckled softly, watching those curls bounce as Karen skipped off to the Great Hall. He might not be able to have Harry and the others, but Karen he could keep around. At least while he was still at Hogwarts. She'd probably single-handedly keep him alive.

Hand tight on his letter, Draco made his way carefully to the Slytherin common room.

* * *

"Surely it's not necessary for both of us to be here?"

"It's both of our potion. It would practically be cheating if you weren't here."

"All we're doing is...wait, what is it we're having to do again?"

Harry and Hermione were in the dungeons, helping themselves into the Potions classroom to tend to their second extended potion, Puer Creaturae. It had something to do with babies, Harry remembered, but he hadn't been in the right mental state to care much of the details at the time. Hermione had seemed a bit surprised when Slughorn assigned the potion to her and Harry, as it was supposedly one of the most complicated and hard-to-perfect potions in the world. It hadn't worried Harry much, though. Hermione was likely to still get it right.

Harry was looking in his textbook, trying to remember what they had done last to the potion so he could figure out what they were supposed to be doing just then.

Hermione's finger slapped the page. "This step here. We're supposed to..." Her eyes scanned the text. "Add ten mint leaves with a length no more than twenty millimeters to the potion on the fifth anti-clockwise stir of ten. It's important that the stirs are not uneven or halted while the leaves are added, so yes, Harry, I needed you here even if it wasn't cheating for you to skip out."

"Right...shall I go find the mint, or...?"

"I already have them." She pulled out a small vial filled with green. "It should only take a minute or two to do this properly."

"Let's do it, then. It's bloody freezing down here."

"Alright, then, I'll stir. You pour in the leaves when I say so."

Taking the vial from Hermione's hand, Harry stepped up to the desk with her as she found a ladle within the desk. She carefully dropped it into the very center of the cauldron, poking through the thickening gray liquid inside, then began to stir anti-clockwise while counting out loud.

"One...two...three...four...add them, Harry."

Harry already had the cork off the vial, making it simple work to dump the leaves into the cauldron. The potion's surface shimmered slightly at the addition, emanating a soft hiss as it turned a milky violet against Hermione's continued stirring.

"Six...seven...eight...nine...ten."

Hermione withdrew the ladle. Together, she and Harry watched the potion slow, returning to its gentle simmer within seconds.

"Well, that's it."

"Excellent. Let's get out of here."

They returned the cauldron to its position along the classroom's edge and quickly left, careful to lock the door behind them.

As they neared the entrance hall, Harry asked, "What is that potion for, again? I, er, don't really remember."

"Did you even read the definition and use?" Hermione sighed.

"...no."

"Well, it's what amounts to the wizarding world's version of surrogacy."

"Of what?"

"A woman carrying another couple's baby."

"Like...in her arms...?"

Hermione snorted. "No, Harry, her womb."

"Oh."

"Puer Creaturae is currently listed as the third most complicated potion to exact, due that it literally creates a life."

"How does that work?" Harry asked, feeling vaguely alarmed at the idea. "We're not...we're not going to make a baby by brewing this thing, are we?"

Hermione laughed as they climbed the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. "No. We're just making the base potion. It doesn't do anything by itself. Once brewed and tested about a hundred times to make sure it's done correctly and is safe for use, the donors add their reproductive DNA, then the potion stews another thirty days. After that, the potion is drunk by the woman that is chosen as the surrogate, the woman that will carry the baby to term. It's said to be an exhausting, long, and expensive route for having a baby, but I hear it's becoming more commonplace these days."

"But...why would anyone choose to have a baby that way?" Harry asked. "It sounds so complicated."

Hermione nodded. "It is, as well as risky. If the surrogate isn't 100% willing, the potion can curdle in her body and cause serious infections if not caught in time. Otherwise, though, it's just as simple as a normal pregnancy and birth."

"But again, why would people choose that? Isn't...wouldn't making a baby the normal way just be way easier?"

"Well, not everyone can have a baby the normal way."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Merlin, really?"

"What?" Harry asked, defensive.

"Well, it's just..." Hermione laughed lightly. "I'm just surprised you haven't thought about it. I mean...okay, some couples can't have children because one or the other might not be physically capable because of cancers or mutations in their genes, right?"

"Okay..."

"And some couples can't because they're gay."

"What?"

Hermione grimaced. " _Please_ tell me you know how babies are made. Please, Harry, don't make me explain that to you."

Harry felt his face flush. "No, no, no, it's not that! I know how they're made, I just...all I meant by that was how could gay couples use this potion? You said the donors have to add reproductive DNA, right? Which, by normal means, wouldn't make a baby."

"Oh." Hermione giggled with nervous relief. "I believe it's just part of the potion, that so long as the DNA are from two distinct humans, it will create a life. It certainly doesn't work that way with muggle surrogacies. Poppy Leaves."

They had reached the portrait hole, and as they crawled through, Harry found himself a bit more interested in their potion than he had been ten minutes earlier. It wasn't as though he were ready for children - not by a long shot, if his decision to relinquish Teddy to Andromeda had been any indication - but knowing that, at least in the wizarding world, he could have children of his own no matter what happened...

"Oi, took you two long enough!"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she bent over to press a soft kiss to Ron's mouth. "We were only gone maybe a half hour. And most of that was just getting to and from."

"Yeah, well," Ron grinned up at her, eyes adoring. "Missed you."

She beamed at him, and Harry tried not to feel too uncomfortable.

Ron leaned over to waggle his eyebrows at Harry. "Missed you, too, mate."

"Oh, shut it," Harry said, throwing his bag at him. Harry flopped into the armchair beside Ron, snatching his bag back and fishing for his homework. Some of his despair from the past week and a half felt faded, and Harry tried not to think on what exactly that meant as he searched for a loose quill.

He was far from ready to give up on what he and Draco had, but Harry was beginning to wonder if he ought to face the facts that were staring him in the face. Maybe Draco really was finished. Maybe Draco truly did want to push Harry away, to keep happiness at a safe distance for the rest of his life. It wasn't what Harry wanted, but he hadn't a clue as to how he could change Draco's mind.

Feeling a bit embarrassed but determined all the same, Harry turned to ask Hermione her opinion.

"Hermione, how-"

But Hermione was far too busy to hear Harry. She was tucked perfectly into Ron's lap, her arms around his neck and his around her waist, each pulling the other closer as they kissed gently, lovingly. The world didn't exist for them in that moment, and the sight brought combating nausea and sadness to Harry as he turned back to his homework, tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

Maybe he wasn't as finished with his despair as he had thought.

* * *

Dinner was approaching. The Slytherin common room was emptying as students began to make their way to the Great Hall, but Draco paid them little notice as he sat by the fire, staring into the flames with his mother's open letter in his hand. Karen had tried to talk to him earlier, though she had just quietly left him when he showed her the letter, dragging a comforting hand through his hair as she passed.

**My dearest Draco,  
I do wish I could have written this letter a bit faster for you, as it is obvious that you are only suffering over there at the castle. But I needed to make sure that I was able to say all that I needed to in one letter to give you every bit of advice that you need right now.  
First and foremost, Draco, I am fine. There have been no inquiries, questions, searches, or anything of the like. In fact, your letter confused me so much, I had to ask around a bit and find an old copy of the ** **_Prophet_ ** **to figure out what in the world you were going on about. And Draco, I must say that I am shocked you would take such a story to be fact when I hadn't personally contacted you. I hope you know that I would alert you if anything like that was happening here at home.  
You're no longer a child, Draco, and I intend to treat you as much to the best of my ability as your mother. That begins with this letter.  
** **It is time that you and I both stopped living in the past and stopped living in fear. I know I have not been the best role model in that respect, but I had rather hoped that might have changed over the Christmas holidays when we saw Andromeda and Teddy.  
You have far from ruined my life in any respect, and you ought to be ashamed for suggesting such a thing. You are my world, and nothing I love so much could ever cause me ruin. You are needlessly hurting yourself by saying such things as you did in your letter, Draco. You deserve to be as happy as anyone else.  
Along those same lines, when I did see the article that has you in such a state, I obviously saw the photograph of you and Harry Potter. Draco, in that single photo, I saw the son I thought I had long ago lost to the neglect of his father and the damage of circumstance. I saw you ** **happy** **. Truly, genuinely, absolutely happy. It was just one photo taken from far away, but I know my son's happiness when I see it. You would have had to be a fool not to see it in that photo.  
Now Draco, you are under no circumstances to keep yourself from such happiness. You and I have suffered long and hard enough, and if I catch wind that you are doing anything to sabotage your own happiness, I will march right up to Hogwarts myself and see to it that things are righted. Nothing has brought me more joy that your smile in that photo, and I am immensely sorry to have ever given you the impression that friendship should be treated with caution.  
I love and miss your father terribly, as I could never deny, but I must say that his opinion with your personal life and what he might say in this situation - fuck him. Fuck everyone's ridiculous opinions and ignore what everyone else might say. The Malfoy name might not be what it once was, but we are still proud and will not let the whispers of others affect us. Not anymore.  
So lift your head high, Draco. Tell those that hurt you to piss off and give them a jinx or two. I'd much rather hear from Minerva McGonagall that you've landed yourself in detention for defending yourself than another letter describing your damaged skull and your desperate pleas not to inform me.  
You and I have been given a beautiful gift to right our past wrongs, Draco. We are finished grieving and suffering. It is time for us to live.  
So find your happiness, be it with Harry Potter or not, and do not let it go.  
Much love,  
Mother**

For the first time in years, Draco's heart and lungs were working in perfect harmony without thought, giving him a clear mind. He had led his life nearly entirely in the service of pleasing another - his father, his fan-friends, the Dark Lord himself. When Draco had been left with no one to please, no one to seek affection from, the darkness of his own mind seemed to have sought to swallow him whole. His crimes had haunted him, his reason not allowing him to grasp at anyone to try and please once the dust settled on the Dark Lord's body, leaving him more a shell than a man.

But no more.

It was as though the chains of his past had finally been torn from his heart. A cool calm had spread through Draco, beginning in his chest as he had read with much relief that his mother was safe and slithering through the rest of his body like a liquid wildfire as the full impact of her words hit him. She was safe. She was happy. She wanted him to be, as well.

But what Draco took away from her letter, something she hadn't even written, was the fact that there was no one he needed to please in order to be happy. He could be happy for himself.

Doubt flickered in the corner of Draco's mind, but he quickly stamped it out as he stood, folding his mother's letter and tucking it into his robes. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that the panic and depression that had taken hold of him for so long was simply vanished from him by a single letter. But he was foolish enough to not give a damn just then. His heartbeat was steady and his lungs were fully functional. His mind was clear and his fear was shoved to the side.

But was it too late? The image of Harry's retreating back in the snow, not even glancing back, flashed in his head.

Draco strode from the common room, forcing himself not to sprint as he made his way up to the Great Hall for dinner. But food was the furthest thing from his mind.

" _Incarcerous_!"

Ropes sprung up around Draco's ankles, knees, middle, and shoulders, pinning his arms against his sides and locking his legs together. Caught off guard, he fell forward, only turning his head at the last second to avoid another bloody nose. His cheek crashed into the stone, though, sending a wave of pain through his face.

Draco groaned, rolling himself over and making to sit up.

"I wouldn't if I were you," said a tall boy with dirty blonde hair. He was a Hufflepuff, and if the acne was anything to go by, at least two years younger than Draco, who rolled his eyes.

"You been practicing that spell a while now?" he sneered. "I'd be more impressed that you managed to trip me, but the ropes are far too loose to do much more than that."

It was true, the ropes knotted well but with far too much slack, making it easy for Draco to pull them off in a matter of seconds. The boy raised his wand and pointed right at Draco's forehead.

"I said to stay still!"

"Actually, you just recommended it."

"You-"

Draco raised a hand to stop him as he stood up. "I'd love to hear whatever insult you've been rehearsing, but I have far better things to be doing right now."

The boy's face turned a magnificent shade of purple. Draco smirked and turned on his heel to leave.

" _Furn_ -"

But Draco was faster. " _Protego_!"

Either Draco's enthusiasm for finally fighting back was quite great or the other boy's jinx was incredibly weak, but regardless, the force of Draco's charm blew the jinx back into the other boy hard enough to send him flying across the corridor. He smacked into the wall as his own Pimple Jinx splattered his already pocketed face. The boy's hands rose to touch the skin as it formed new, more dramatic mountains and craters, his mouth open and eyes wide with shock.

"You-you-" he stuttered, climbing onto shaking knees. "You absolute-you-"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Quite a way with words, haven't you? Do us both a favor and fuck off already. As I said before, I have better things to be doing."

Smirk still strong on his lips, Draco turned and strutted off down the corridor. Stragglers to and from dinner were few and far between, but the two students he did see, Draco purposefully kept his head held high, glaring at them with as much contempt as he could muster. For how confident and justified he was beginning to truly feel, the contempt was quite great.

"Better wipe that smug look off your face, Malfoy," one of the Slytherins hissed at him. "People will think you've gone back to your old ways and you'll just make us all look even worse than you already do."

"I really couldn't care less, you fuckwit."

The boy's eyes grew wide as he scowled. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." And Draco shot a well-placed Tickling Charm at the boy, harmless but obnoxious. Insane cackles echoed around Draco as he passed the doubled-over boy and his friend, climbing the final staircase to the entrance hall.

It felt good not to be afraid. He was done. Done with the overwhelming and overriding fear that had consumed him for years, done with letting his insecurities and his past define him and guide him. Draco was _done_.

The doors to the Great Hall were uncharacteristically closed for a regular weekend dinner. It gave Draco pause as he wondered for a moment if there was a feast, a holiday he had forgotten. Had there been some sort of notice about it?

It didn't matter.

Draco shook himself, taking a controlled and deep breath, and burst through the doors.

The chatter that had been spilling through the shut doors abruptly stopped as Draco stepped into the Great Hall. Hundreds of heads whipped around to get a good look at him, glares firmly in place as whispers broke out like an angry wind. Instinct threatened to take over at the reaction, Draco's breath hitching slightly in his chest. But he ignored it. He ignored his body, ignored the eyes, ignored the whispers, and strode over toward the Gryffindor table.

Harry was far from hard to spot, Chosen One and all his fans aside. Draco could have spotted that mop of black hair from space. Harry's back was to the rest of the room and he was bent over his soup, playing with the spoon. He hadn't turned around when Draco entered and the commotion came to a grinding halt, and Draco forced himself not to wonder why.

As Draco approached Harry, slowing as he drew closer, he sensed rather than saw several different people or groups standing up in alarm. They likely thought he was about to attack Harry, especially when Draco grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and ripped him from his seat.

Several people shouted out, all of their words lost in the chaos.

Harry spun around, a wild look of confusion on his face as he opened his mouth.

"Draco? What-"

But Draco didn't care what Harry had to say. Draco had to do this, had to at least try.

He grabbed Harry by the front of his robes and pulled him in, smashing their lips together in a kiss that seared Draco down to his very soul.

The world fell away in that moment, silence ringing in Draco's ears as his lips pressed firmly to Harry's, his eyes shut tight and mouth still as he waited for a reply. It only took a moment for Draco's heart to flutter when Harry's lips moved against his, melding them much more gently than Draco had brought them together. Hands came to Draco's waist, and it was with a great effort that Draco didn't dissolve into a puddle of joyful tears at the sensation. Their lips broke apart, eyes meeting for what felt like the first time. And perhaps, in a way, they were.

Harry was beaming at him, green eyes misty.

"I'm so fucking sorry," Draco whispered.

Harry's right shoulder lifted briefly in a half-shrug, smile still filling his face. "I'm glad you came back."

There was a buzzing in Draco's ear then, and the world felt as if it was rising from the oblivion he and Harry had temporarily thrown it into, coming around them and reminding Draco of what exactly he had just done. Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and outcasted disgrace, had just kissed Harry Potter, the Chosen One and savior of the wizarding world, in front of the entire school. He gulped.

Harry glanced around them. The whispering seemed to grow more confused and angry, but he just dropped back into his seat, dragging Draco by the waist into the spot beside him.

"Ignore them," Harry said. "They're all idiots. Here, have some ham."

As Harry began making a plate for him, Draco looked around as inconspicuously as possible. Most of the Hall was still filled with furious eyes, but those immediately around him, those of Harry's closest friends, were smiling back at him, their faces mirroring what Harry's had been. Hermione's hand came to rest on Draco's a moment for a comforting squeeze, and even Weasley gave him a friendly nod and grin.

Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, pulling his attention. "You okay?"

Draco's heart was hammering in his chest, but he was breathing easy and felt no fear. Only raw victory and happiness clawed at his chest and he returned Harry's smile.

"I'm great. Really."

"Good. You deserve it."

And maybe he did.


	21. Chapter 21

**ONE YEAR LATER**

Harry's head slammed into the wood of the door, sending parks throughout his vision, though he had trouble caring. His lips were frantic and wet, eagerly kissing Draco's as he was pressed bodily into the door. Draco's hands were in his hair, on his neck, grabbing at his dress robes, never staying in one place long while Harry's were firmly wrapped in the dress robes at Draco's waist. Their tongues fought within their sealed lips and their hearts raced together.

Draco's hands slid up Harry's front, finally finding and working the buttons there. A smirk crossed Harry's lips. Careful not to break their kiss, he pulled one of his hands from Draco's back and reached around him to the doorknob at his hip, locking it.

Mmm," Draco humming between them. "Not wanting any visitors?"

But Harry could only shake his head as Draco removed his dress robes, pushing them to the floor and working next on his undershirt. Harry made to catch up, but he couldn't seem to find the clasps on Draco's front while concentrating on their kiss, only managing to get his fingers lost in the fabric.

Harry groaned and pulled back. "How the devil are your robes tied on you?"

Having managed to undo Harry's shirt without trouble, Draco slid his hands across the bare chest between them, sending chills across Harry's skin and making him tilt his head back at the sensation. Draco's lips locked onto his neck, licking at the area just below his ear. Harry's hips bucked slightly, his excitement growing.

"I-oh...I asked you something," Harry moaned. Draco's hands were trailing carefully down his chest and abdomen, teasing at his pants.

Draco unbuttoned Harry's pants painstakingly slow, nipping at his neck all the while, sending Harry into a daze while he again fumbled his fingers at Draco's dress robes, trying to figure out how to undo them. But when Harry's pants fell to the floor and Draco began to kiss and nibble his way down Harry's front, all brain functions ceased. He could only stand there, breathing heavily against the door, as Draco's nose bumped the skin just beside his erection, cheek grazing his cock without meaning to and making Harry's eyes roll back. Draco's hands were sliding down Harry's sides, coming to rest on his thighs, as he tilted his head to plant a tender kiss to the underside of Harry's cock.

"Ohh f-fuck," Harry moaned softly. Finally giving up on whatever his hands had been trying to do, he rested his hands on Draco's head, gently wrapping them in the hair there.

Draco planted another kiss, then two, then three, all the while moving towards the head. It was painfully slow, and Harry's cock twitched involuntarily with anticipation when Draco's tongue swiped across the slit.

Without warning, Draco's mouth wrapped around Harry's cock entirely, dropping down nearly to the base with his tongue pressing along the length.

Harry stifled a loud moan. "Bl-oody hell."

Encouraged, Draco pulled his head back, his lips tight against the cock in his mouth, licking all the while as he bobbed back down again. Harry's knees shook slightly, and Draco's hands pushed him into the door more firmly as he sucked Harry's cock fast and messy.

"Draco, please," Harry moaned after a minute. The heat of his climax was building deep in his abdomen, and Harry wasn't ready to be done.

With a final slide down the length of Harry's cock, Draco pulled back with a quiet pop and looked up at Harry from his knees. That sight alone could do Harry in, and he was sure Draco and his sly smirk knew it.

Draco's voice was deep and raspy. "I thought this was a...ah, what did you call it? A 'quicky'."

"Ha ha," Harry said, pulling Draco up by the arm. "Now get your clothes off, I can't seem to figure them out."

"Shocker."

Harry crashed his lips onto Draco's, kicking the pants pooled at his feet and his shoes off as he forced Draco against the wall behind him. He nibbled at Draco's lips, drawing out a whimper.

"Okay, okay," Draco whispered against Harry's lips, and he lifted his hands to start finally undressing. Harry continued to kiss him, trying to press his entire body against Draco while still leaving him enough room to remove his pesky clothing. When Draco's dress robes and shirt were gone and only his pants remained, Harry grabbed Draco's wrists and shoved them above his head, deepening their kiss as he grinded his hips onto Draco's. The slick fabric rubbed tantalizingly across Harry's cock as he pressed it over Draco's own.

A filthy groan escaped Draco's lips, and Harry felt him straining at the hands that held him firmly against the wall.

"Ohhh no," Harry muttered, bringing the wrists together and holding them fast with only one of his hands. It was lucky in that sense that Draco was so thin. "Your turn."

"Mmm?" Draco hummed, but Harry ignored him and reached down to remove Draco's pants, pushing them to the floor as best he could and finally releasing Draco's own hard cock. Harry lined their cocks together and thrust himself forward and up slightly, skin rubbing gently together. Draco's head fell back as he moaned and Harry took the opportunity to kiss at the exposed skin of his neck. He thrust forward again.

"Harry-"

"Oh, yes."

Harry gave one last teasing thrust before stepping back, letting Draco's hands fall. It was a gorgeous sight, Draco naked and wanting him, one that Harry wasn't sure he would ever properly get used to even if he wanted. Draco pushed off the wall and took Harry's hand.

"Turn around," he said.

Harry obeyed, and he let his head fall back as Draco kissed his shoulders, one hand gliding over Harry's chest as the other dropped to the space between them at their hips. Pressure made its way to Harry's entrance while Draco's lips moved up his neck and suckled at his earlobe. Subconsciously bending at the waist slightly, Harry turned his head to bring their lips together again, this time slow and tender.

Draco broke the kiss first, pulling back just an inch to whisper, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Harry smiled.

And then Draco thrust inside.

Harry groaned at the sensation, and as Draco pushed into him, kissing him again, Harry found himself rocking back. It took only a thrust or two for Draco's cock to tap that spot within Harry that sent fireworks erupting across his vision, and Harry moaned, his voice just loud enough to echo off the nearby tile.

At the door, there was a sudden knock.

Harry and Draco froze mid-thrust.

"Er..."

"Harry? Malfoy?" Ron shouted through the thankfully locked door. "I know you're in there, and I know what you're doing is absolutely disgusting."

Harry laughed, resuming his rocking on Draco's cock.

"It mean it! It's just wrong, you two, it's just-"

"Better than you'll ever have?" Draco asked, his voice only barely concealing his moan. "I must say, I agree."

"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy!"

"I'm trying, but you're here."

Harry rocked back hard, slamming his arse against Draco's hips and nearly knocking them both off balance.

"Look," Ron slurred, sounding exasperated. "Mum's looking for you two. Thank Merlin I found you before she did...but just...ugh, just hurry it up and go find her, will you? I shouldn't be hunting you prats down at my own wedding."

Harry groaned softly, saying, "Technically, it's the reception. You're already married."

Ron smacked the door once more, his voice fading as he walked away. "Just find her!"

Alone again, Harry looked back to kiss Draco.

"Guess we better get going, mm?" he asked.

"You were the one that wanted to take our time."

Instead of answering, Harry pushed back onto Draco's cock, but Draco quickly took over, grabbing at Harry's hips and thrusting into him repeatedly without stopping. Harry grabbed at the nearby sink for support as he bent forward, hand dropping to his own swollen cock to start pumping in time with Draco's thrusts. It was fast and it was ecstasy, and it was only a few more minutes of furious fucking and stifling moans until Harry found himself trying to catch his release as he climaxed. His muscles contracted around Draco's cock, and it was barely a second more until Draco was gasping, too, his hips stuttering with his own orgasm.

Harry dropped his forehead onto the cool sink, panting. His hands were a mess, but at least their clothes hadn't been sacrificed in the name of love.

Draco carefully pulled out of Harry, who squirmed a bit at the sensation. They both straightened and faced one another, grinning like fools.

"Well..." Draco said, breathing heavily. He gestured to their scattered clothing and then the door. "Shall we?"

Harry laughed, and they quickly dressed and washed up a bit before stepping out into the hallway.

The Burrow was rather quiet on the inside, everyone busy enjoying themselves at the reception outside beneath the summer stars.

It had been a rather beautiful wedding, even if all Harry had to go by was Bill and Fleur's wedding three years previous. They hadn't worried about a tent this time, Hermione wanting to be able to watch the sun set as she and Ron exchanged vows, so the ceremony easily transitioned into the outdoor party that was the current reception. Thanks to Charlie and George, and likely Mr. Weasley, who greatly approved of Hermione, the party was rather well stocked with alcohol. It made for a spectacularly loud and rambunctious occasion.

Among the chaos of intoxicated guests, Harry led Draco by the hand through the crowd in search of Mrs. Weasley.

They passed by endless Weasley relatives, really more a blur of red hair and freckles in varying states of inebriation. But Harry caught sight of plenty of familiar faces as they picked their way through the crowd; Fleur sitting with Andromeda in a far corner with Teddy, loud and two, and the newest Weasley, Victoire, born a little over a year previous; George holding Angelina Johnson's hand as he laughed with Bill, Charlie, and Lee Jordan with his own very pretty guest; Percy and his fiancee talking with Mr. Weasley. The joy all around the garden was palpable, and Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face as he finally spotted Mrs. Weasley and forced their way to her.

"Oh, Harry, Draco, thank goodness I found you," she said, pulling them both into a bone-breaking hug. She pulled back and held onto their robes as she fixed them with a stern glare. "You two staying sober as you promised, right?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "Not a drop, I swear."

She narrowed her eyes a bit more, then beamed as she released them both. "Well good. I know they're adults and all, but I must say that it is nice to know they have you two making sure they get home okay."

Her eyes drifted into the crowd as she spoke, and Harry followed them, spotting the newlywed couple in the center of the chaos. Hermione was laughing, nearly doubling over in her slim white dress, one hand on Luna's shoulder and the other clutching a nearly empty glass of champagne. Ron stood beside her, just as red in the face, laughing with Neville and Hannah Abbott. Dean and Seamus, leaning heavily on one another, stood with them. It was an achingly good sight, Harry thought. But Mrs. Weasley's worry wasn't entirely unfounded. Not even walking, Ron stumbled into Neville, who caught him and laughed as he helped steady him.

"No worries," Draco said to Mrs. Weasley. "We're happy to help."

"That's a relief," said a voice behind them. "Because Ron looks like he's only a quarter hour to blacking out."

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Don't say that, Ginny, that's nothing to joke about!"

Ginny stepped over to them, holding her own glass of champagne, though hers was mostly full and likely only her first or second. She met Harry's eyes and smiled. It had been well over a year since their official break up and argument in the Hogwarts courtyard, and Harry was pleased with how far they had come. It had taken Harry graduating and them enjoying some distance, but by Ginny's seventh year Christmas, things had become familial again, much to Harry's relief.

"Glad to see you two...ah...hadn't left," Ginny said, winking at Draco, who gave her a silent sneer behind Mrs. Weasley's back.

"Oh, Ginny, they wouldn't have left. Ron and Harry have been friends for nearly a decade! Besides, Harry hasn't gone back on a promise yet."

Ginny snorted into her glass, though she managed to cover it up as a violent sneeze. Harry shot her a glare, but Ginny just shrugged and disappeared back into the crowd with a parting smirk.

Mrs. Weasley sighed fretfully. "I know everyone is enjoying themselves, but it will be a relief when everyone is home safe and sober again. I do hope there's less alcohol at your own wedding, you know."

Harry and Draco both snapped their heads round to Mrs. Weasley. Harry's heart skipped a beat. Surely she hadn't just said that in front of Draco.

Seeming to realize what she said, Mrs. Weasley's face turned bright red. "Oh, dear, I'm so sorry-not quite what I-I'll just go see to Arthur, shall I?"

Fanning her face, she, too, vanished into the crowd.

Harry swallowed and glanced at Draco. His pale face looked as though he had been slapped, and Harry's stomach churned uncomfortably.

"Draco," he said, trying not to sound nervous. "She just gets like that sometimes. She doesn't mean anything by it. She's probably just been drinking herself and-"

But Draco cut him off, grabbing Harry by the hand and dragging him through and away from the party. Harry let himself be led to the darkness of the far side of Mr. Weasley's shed. Draco released his hand when they were out of sight from the lights and eyes of the reception, its sounds drifting over them as though through a filter, soft and vague. Draco took a deep breath, eyes not meeting Harry's right away.

"Hey," Harry said, grabbing Draco's chin and tilting his face up until their eyes finally met. "It's...look, she's just-"

"No, Harry, you don't understand," Draco said, cutting him off. He gulped and reached into his pocket, then dropped onto one knee in front of Harry.

Draco offered up a small ring box that held on display a gorgeous silver band that glittered in the starlight.

"I..." Draco swallowed again. "I asked Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for their blessing before I even bought the ring. I...I wanted to make sure it was okay before I...before I asked you to marry me."

And because Harry was Harry, he burst out laughing.

Bewilderment covered Draco's face, but it quickly gave way to annoyance.

"Well, you don't have to _laugh_ at me," he snapped, making to stand up.

Harry grabbed Draco's shoulder, keeping him on the ground as Harry dropped to his knees as well.

"No, no, no, I'm sorry," Harry laughed. "I'm just laughing because..."

He reached into his pocket and produced his own ring box to Draco that held a very similar band of gold.

"I did the exact same thing," he said, trying to collect himself. "Obviously, I asked your mother, too, but I did the same fucking thing, Draco."

Silence settled between them as Draco stared at the ring in Harry's hand, mouth slightly open. Then he snapped his lips shut and looked back to Harry's eyes.

"So...is that a yes?" Draco asked.

"Only if your answer is 'yes,' too."

"I asked you first. You have to be the one to answer."

"Technically, you didn't ask."

"I basically did. You have to answer first."

"I don't think that's how this works."

"Well, no one wrote a How To Do A Gay Proposal guide," Draco said with an eye roll. "So I'm making it up as I go."

"Why do you get to make the rules?"

Draco smirked. "Because I started it."

"Only because of Mrs. Weasley just now."

"Doesn't matter."

They glared at each other for a moment. After several seconds, Harry's lips twitched into a smile. He couldn't help it. Of course this was how their proposal would go. Laughing softly, Harry nodded.

"Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you."

Draco's face split into a huge smile, and Harry leaned forward to kiss him. Their lips were pulled too tight in their smiles to kiss properly, but it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered in that moment. It was surreal, Harry and Draco crouching in the midnight shadow of Mr. Weasley's shed outside of Ron and Hermione's wedding reception, sliding bands onto the other's finger. It may not have ever been what Harry had expected or imagined, but it was everything he could have ever wanted.

"Wow," Draco said, admiring the gold band now on his finger. "Engaged. Never thought I'd do it."

"Well, you still have some time to change your mind before you're stuck with me for eternity," Harry said, pulling them both to their feet.

"The phrase is 'bonded for life,' so it's not quite an eternity, just a lifetime."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I bet you'll be bugging me in the afterlife, too."

Draco stopped Harry from leading them back to the party. Harry looked back, knowing he had to be looking at Draco with just as sappy a look in his eyes as Draco was giving him, and it was perfect. He leaned in and kissed Draco's lips, hands coming to rest on his face as Draco's wrapped around Harry's waist. Endless love and devotion poured from one set of lips to the other, filling them both up more than they could ever hope to contain.

"I love you," Harry sighed as their lips came apart.

"I love you, too," Draco said. He broke their embrace, making his way back toward the party. "Come on. Let's find Hermione and Weasley before they make too big a fool of themselves."

"It'd be funnier to let them."

"Come on."

Harry let himself be dragged back into the swarm. The silver band on his finger felt like a beacon on him, the amplified proclamation of love that he had once told Draco he wished to shout from the rooftops. Finally, he felt that he had fulfilled that promise.

As the party unraveled into the night, Harry found he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Not to take away from Ron and Hermione's night, neither he nor Draco brought up their new engagement, but it didn't matter. Harry was in love with his life. The road had been rough, the journey a damned nightmare at times, but Harry felt that he had finally reached the destination he had always sought. He wondered what adventures the future could hold for him, for Draco and Ron and Hermione. Whatever they turned out to be, Harry was confident that they could handle it so long as they had one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, all transferred and I can consider this story laid to rest (again). It was interesting to reread a piece of my work from so long ago and see how things have changed. My husband likes to tease me for this piece and another I had the misfortune of drunkenly sharing with him, but there's little I can do unless I want to scrap the whole thing. And I'm not quite a fan of burying the past when it can show how much one's grown. 
> 
> As someone commented about my tags, I'm sorry if they're insufficient. I'm still getting used to tagging things and will likely return to edit the tags as I get the hang of AO3. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this far :)


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